by Randalynn

---

 
 

"I went down to the St. James Infirmary, I saw my baby there
She was stretched out on a long white table, so cold, and fine, and fair."
-- St. James Infirmary Blues, American folksong
 
 

"Mom?" "Yes, honey?" "I've ... been thinking. Maybe ... you're ... right. Maybe ... I DO need ... to be more careful. Take ... up ... extreme ... bungie jumping ... or something." I could hear and feel the half-laugh, half-sob that came out, and I felt a little better. She kissed my hand. "I think you should stop thinking for a while, baby," she whispered, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "I bet it really hurts." "It does," I smiled. "Maybe ... you should ... dye my hair ... blonde ... until I get better." That time, she laughed out loud. I turned my head and tried to drift off. Everything was going to be okay. I was home again.

Of course they didn't let me drift off, or stop thinking. The fact that I had lost consciousness between hitting the wall and waking up in the ambulance made the EMTs ask me a whole series of questions -- some of which confused me, since the distinction between my old life and new life had blurred a bit with the head injury. I tried to focus as best I could, and recalled the entire fight, the reasons leading up to it, my name, address, and birthday. They forced me to open my eyes despite my sensitivity to light, then asked me to follow the movement of a finger, and tell them how many fingers they were holding up. I assured them my vision was not blurred.

When we reached the hospital, they put me on a stretcher and wheeled me towards X-ray. I closed my eyes and just let things happen, and suddenly the dark just rose up and swallowed me whole.

###

I woke slowly, still in pain, with my eyes shut tight against the light. I heard the drone of a male voice and the click of footsteps growing louder. From the voice's self-satisfied tone, I knew it had to belong to a doctor.

"... now for something completely different, children. This patient is a thirteen-year-old girl who chose to take on a full-grown adult male in single combat." There was a slight sneer in his voice. "The circumstances are irrelevant, but for reasons I don't quite understand, the entire incident was caught on videotape, and the police have permitted us to make a duplicate of the video to help with the patient's treatment."

Great, I thought ruefully. Now I'm a classroom exercise.

I heard machinery whirring into action, and heard a tinny replay of the last part of my conversation with Heather's Dad. When the time came for him to slam me into the wall, I could hear the thud, followed by a muted gasp from more people than I had expected.

"She lost consciousness at that point and didn't become aware again until halfway to the hospital. However, there was no evidence of an altered mental state. She answered all questions put to her with only a slight hesitation. Why is this unusual?" A short pause. "Ms. Harris?"

A soft contralto replied briskly. "Because loss of consciousness is indicative of a significant brain trauma, which should have made her responses less coherent."

"Given what we saw, who can tell me what happened to that girl's brain when her head hit the archway? Mr. Namde?"

A tentative baritone spoke up. "At the time of the impact, her brain would have collided with the interior of her skull at high-speed."

"And the result?"

"Some tearing of the tissues holding the brain in place would be expected."

"And?" The doctor's voice, impatient.

"Bruising and swelling of the brain itself?" His pitch went up an octave.

"Let's take Mr. Namde off the hook, shall we?" The doctor's smug smile was reflected in his voice. "Ms. Collins, would an impact like the one we saw be likely to cause massive injury?"

"Yes, sir, I believe it would."

"I believe it would, too." His tone was dry. "Tell me, Ms. Collins, what would happen if the brain were injured to the point where swelling made it too large for the skull to hold." A long pause. "Ms. Collins, sometime today?"

A soprano this time, breathless and hurried. "The brain matter would have nowhere to go ... except for the foramen magnum at the base of the skull."

"And the purpose of the foramen magnum ... Ms. Harris?"

"Where the brainstem comes out of the skull to form the spinal cord. If the brain swelled to the point where it would use this as an exit point --"

"Don't anticipate, Ms. Harris. Mr. Blaine, what would it be called if her brain swelled to fill the foramen magnum?

A nice strong alto. "A herniated brain stem, Dr. Samuels."

"So nice to hear from you, Mr. Blaine. And what would the patient become if she were to experience a herniated brain stem?" Long silence. "Anyone?" Another long silence, followed by a sigh. "You disappoint me. If Ms. ... Barnes had experienced a herniated brain stem, she would become ... an organ donor. Brain activity other than autonomic functions would cease, and she'd become an a la carte menu for the transplant trade."

There was the sound of a switch and the fluttering of a large piece of film being snapped in place.

"Now, look at this X-Ray and tell me what you see. Ms. Collins?"

A pause. "No cracks or fractures. The skull appears intact ... totally undamaged."

"Is this consistent with the impact you saw her receive on the tape?"

The timid soprano spoke softly. "No, sir."

"The CT images also show no bleeding, no injury, no swelling of the brain other than what could have been caused by a far less traumatic injury."

Really, I thought. That's ... odd.

"As far as the tests are concerned, her course of treatment involves Tylenol and ice packs as needed." Pause. "Comments?"

"The video is fake."

The doctor tsked at him. "Such cynicism, Mr. Blaine. The police assure us it is genuine."

Another long pause. "What does this incident and its aftermath tell us about the practice of medicine?"

Silence. The doctor's voice grew sharp.

"The moral of this story, children, is that we don't know everything. File Ms. Barnes under medical miracles and move on. She's damned lucky she's not in a drawer in the basement. Maybe this little adventure will teach her to pick on someone her own size, or at least choose her opponents more carefully. Moving on."

The footsteps receded, and I'm sure none of them saw the tears flowing down my cheeks.

###

The hospital room had a big window. It overlooked a fascinating collection of pipes and ductwork that stretched across the roof of the hospital annex next door. With my bed next to the window, I had a pretty good view. It looked a lot like a leftover set from Blade Runner -- so much so that I half-expected to see Harrison Ford and Rutger Hauer chasing each other through the rain-drenched permanent night of future noir L.A.

The weather, however, refused to cooperate. It wasn't raining, not a bit. It was sunny, just after dawn, and the light still hurt my head -- although not as much as it had last night.

I passed all of the tests once we arrived at the hospital, and had none of the symptoms of a concussion except for a slight problem with pupil dilation. I still didn't know why, but had been looking forward to getting back home to my own bed once everyone saw how miraculously uninjured I was.

Unfortunately, the police made the mistake of showing the ER doctor the last two minutes of my video debut. Unlike Dr. Samuels, she refused to believe there was nothing wrong after seeing me slammed headfirst into a solid piece of oak, even though the tests looked fine. Since I had a bump the size of a small German car on my left side of my forehead, they admitted me "for observation" -- which is hospital code for "keep the injured person awake for the rest of the night, flash bright lights in her eyes, and make it impossible for her to get well."

I was in the pediatrics section of the hospital, surrounded by children a lot younger than I was. The room was semi-private, and the other half of it was empty, so I had some privacy. This was good, because the staff dressed me in a truly awful hospital gown. I'm sure they thought it was cute, but it was also way too short, wouldn't stay closed in the back, and was covered with little blue and purple teddy bears. At first I didn't mind too much, since no one seemed inclined to let me out of bed. But the first time they let me stagger to the bathroom (after a disastrous attempt to use a bedpan at four in the morning while still getting used to female plumbing), I took a glance in the mirror. A stranger stared back.

My hair looked like someone had stapled a dead fox to my head, and hadn't tried to be neat about it. Since I'd left my purse at home when I went off to Heather's house last night, I had no brush to fix it. I also had no makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes, and it hurt to discover that the bruises on the bump had changed colors to match the bears on the stupid gown.

Carolyn had stayed with me for a while, holding my hand the whole time. They had to pry us apart for the CT scan -- and the awful noise it made brought my headache back in full force. When the initial tests came back okay, she reluctantly left for the courthouse to act as Heather's attorney as she swore out a complaint. Mom told me she also needed to finalize the arrangements for Heather's long-term stay at our house, and to make sure Heather's testimony about her father's abuse was available for his preliminary hearing. I told her not to worry, that right now Heather needed her more than I did, and that I loved her and knew she loved me, too.

Of course, that was part of my problem, now.

When I had first agreed to become the Advocate, the reasons for my choice were clear. I knew firsthand the kind of damage magical predators could do to a life and a family. The Arbiters and the Omnipresence were convinced I was the right person for the job -- hell, they were convinced I was the only person for the job. And finally, if I said no, every evil done by those I could have stopped would be on my head.

I knew there were people who would say that the last argument didn't count, since I couldn't be expected to dedicate my life to saving the world -- that first and foremost, I had a responsibility to myself. But I knew it was my responsibility to myself that clinched the deal. If I turned my back on everyone I might have saved, I'd never be able to see myself as anything but a coward. I'd never be able to look in a mirror again.

Still, there were other people in my life. And putting myself on the front line as I did opened the door to a world of hurt for the ones I loved. For the ones who loved me.

Like Carolyn.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her crying and felt her despair in the back of that ambulance all over again. I had loved her, first as my wife and then as my Mom, for over twenty years. And yet in one day, I'd managed to hurt her, frighten her, and make her cry while almost getting my brain scrambled in the process.

Nice work, stupid, I thought bitterly. She doesn't know you're the Advocate. She thinks you’re a headstrong, stubborn girl who reminds her way too much of the husband she lost. And she almost lost you last night because helping Heather was more important than listening to her, and believing she knew what was best. If it wasn't for some freakish piece of luck, you'd be dead now.

Carolyn had always been there for me, whenever I needed her. As her husband, I always trusted her to do what was right -- for me, for us, and for the family. As her daughter, I had undermined her authority by sneaking out the way I did, and caused her pain and sadness when my plan ended just as she said it would. I wasn't sure how I could make it up to her, but I was determined to try.

I had hurt the woman I had loved since the moment we met. Although I had won, and Heather's Dad was going down, I felt like I had lost somehow. I felt empty, and lonely, and alone.

So even though the light made my head ache, I lay there looking out at the sun-drenched Blade Runner roof and wondered how soon they would let me go.

###

Family trickled in during the early morning, even though visiting hours didn't start until much later in the day. Judging by my performance the previous night (and the way my siblings waltzed into my room the next morning), the Barnes credo seemed to be, "Rules? We don't need no stinkin' rules!" Jeremy brought me a wicked fast food breakfast sandwich and some hash browns to make up for the bland oatmeal and warm juice I had put aside as inedible.

Emma was a bit more practical, bringing my bathrobe, toothbrush, and toothpaste, as well as make-up, hair stuff, and my lavender bear, Miss Abby. While I cuddled the bear happily (one of the small pleasures of girlhood), Emma hid the worst of last night's tussle and sleepless night under a fresh coat of paint and started working on my tangled mop.

"Heather and Mom didn't get back from the police station until after six." Emma's voice drifted down from behind and above me as she wielded the brush. "They both crashed pretty hard when they got home. Heather's out cold in your bed, wearing one of those oversized tee shirts you got on last year's beach vacation."

Jeremy had set up his base camp in a chair across the room, stretched out with his hands in his pockets while Emma and I did the girly stuff. "I'll have the upper bunk set up before they let you out, Becca."

"I hope that's soon," I said, wincing as Emma worked past another knot. As soon as I said it, though, I began to wonder how things were going to be between Mom and me after last night. I gave Miss Abby a tight squeeze. "How is Mom doing?"

"Hard to tell," Emma said in a tight voice. "She was pretty sleepy when she got back. Looked ten years older, though. Emotionally drained." She gave a knot a yank with the brush. I yelped. "I guess that's what happens when you almost lose a daughter. Or a sister." Emma yanked again, hard. I reached up to snatch the brush away, but she moved it out of reach. I turned toward her.

"If you've got a problem, say it to my face," I snapped. "Just leave my hair out of this. It's suffered enough."

"If I've got a problem?" Emma snapped back, slamming the brush down on the side table. "You're the one with the problem. You think you're Buffy the freakin' Vampire Slayer!"

I looked at her, stunned. "I do not!"

"Do too! You went over there last night and almost got yourself killed because you thought you could handle a grown man all by yourself."

"Heather was there!"

"Not when it came down to it, Becca," she hissed. "She ran for help, and then it was you and that ... that bastard in a damned death match, all alone." Her voice caught in her throat, and she just stopped. She tried to speak again, but couldn't. And I watched her eyes fill with tears. "You could have died last night. You could have ..."

She just stared at me, and her lower lip trembled. I reached out, and she stepped back and shook her head.

"I need ... a Coke," she squeaked, and stumbled out the door past a curious nurse.

"Is everything okay?" The woman asked. I nodded yes, even though the answer was obviously no.

###

Soon after she left, Jeremy came over and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"Emma's been mad since we found you in Heather's living room," he said softly. "I think she had to choose between fear and anger, and she went with anger because she was worried out of her mind. We all were." He patted my hand. "She'll get past it, sis. It's just because she loves you."

I looked down, ashamed. Jeremy gave my hand a squeeze.

"I need to thank you, Becca," he whispered. "You helped Heather out of a tight spot and got yourself hurt doing it. I won't forget."

"Well, getting hurt wasn't really part of the plan," I said with a smile.

He grinned back, then ducked his head. "How're you feeling?"

"Embarassed, mostly." I plucked at the bear-covered gown. "Even plain white would have been an improvement over ... this."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." My mind spun for a while. How did I feel? "Physically, my head still hurts a little, and I get a bit dizzy if I stand up too fast. Emotionally ..." I shook my head. "I guess I'm depressed and a little numb."

"Depressed?" He seemed shocked. "Becca, you kicked butt! You're a hero! Heck, I woulda brought you Wheaties, but I knew you'd rather have a McMuffin."

I looked down. "I don't feel like a hero, Jer. Truth told, I feel like an idiot. And I'm the one in the stupid hospital gown, so mine must be the dimpled butt that got itself kicked." I looked out the window, instead of at Jeremy's confused face. "I think I made the right call last night, but now ... the next day ... all I can think of is how easily it all went wrong. How Mom looked in the ambulance. How mad Emma is. How lucky I was." My breath caught in my throat, and I shook my head again. "Numb is better than thinking too hard about what I did."

"Heather's safe and you're going to be okay, that's all I care about," Jeremy said softly. He reached up and ruffled my hair.

I wish it was enough for me, I thought, and for Emma. But I smiled at my brother so he wouldn't worry.

###

Emma had come back eventually, but she didn't speak to me at all. She just sat by the bed and held my hand for a while, and shook her head when I tried to talk with her. Jeremy used the remote to surf the hospital's limited channel selection. This went on for an hour or two, then Jeremy left to find food and Emma went outside to use her cell phone. I went back to staring out the window at the annex roof.

I felt miserable. I didn't complain, not even to myself. After all, according to Dr. Samuels, I should have been a corpse. Complaining about a headache would seem ... ungrateful. But it was why I wasn't dead that actually bothered me, in a way I couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the headache, but it felt like I was missing something.

When visiting hours actually did start, the first person through my door was Amy. She breezed into the room with a huge flower arrangement and two chocolate milkshakes.

"Girl, you made me so mad I almost screamed," she said briskly, in a matter-of-fact voice. She set the flowers down on the bedside table. "To go off like that, without me to watch your back? You almost got yourself killed! Didn't we pinky swear at Debbie Lister's fifth birthday party to be sisters forever? How could you walk into danger without letting me help you face it? Aren't we bestest friends?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but she sailed on around the bed, a shake in each hand and continued without a stop.

"But then I realized that you were just trying to keep me from getting hurt, because you are my best friend and you love me. And I thought that was really sweet, and it made me all misty-eyed and sniffly about you lying here without me, and suddenly I missed you and needed to be here with you because you did get hurt and you needed me. Sooooooo ... I brought flowers and milkshakes and really big hugs!" And she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed and laughed, and I hugged her back and we just stayed that way for a minute.

She pulled away and looked in my eyes. I could see the tears in hers. "Becca, I'm glad you're not dead, but if you put your life in danger again, I swear I'll kill you myself. I couldn't bear to lose you, so don't DO that, 'kay?"

I just nodded, tears welling up in my eyes, and she suddenly smiled and handed me a shake.

"Shake on it?" she said with a grin.

I threw a pillow at her.

###

The milkshake was delicious, but made my head hurt a little -- pleasure well worth the pain it brought. I told Amy the whole story (well, most of the story), receiving her undivided attention, appropriate gasps, and an occasional squeeze of my hand when things started getting hairy. I told her about my Mom in the ambulance, and how I felt about what I put her through. Amy listened intently the whole time, and when it was time for her to go, I let her know I expected to be home soon -- maybe as early as tonight -- and I'd give her a call when I got back.

"Is it true Heather's staying with you now?" Amy asked.

"Yes," I said with a smile. "In fact, she's sharing my bedroom. Jeremy's putting the old bunk bed back together."

"Wow." For a moment, she looked wistful. "They're so lucky, Jeremy and Heather." I rasied an eyebrow. "The way things worked out, they'll be together all the time now." She smiled. "And they're so much in love."

"Let's hope they stay in love!" I grinned when she turned a curious eye on me. "When Jeremy discovers he has to share the bathroom with ANOTHER girl, he may run away!"

"Not when she's the girl he's sharing it with," Amy said with an answering smile. "Seriously, sis, they're just right for each other. Heather's nice, with a pretty smile, and this shy anime girl vibe that guys just seem to fall for. And Jeremy seems to ... I dunno ... complete her? She comes alive with him, you know?"

I smiled and nodded, and without warning tears started welling up in my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. Amy turned and saw I was crying, and she gave me a hug.

"Hey! You did the right thing, saving Heather the way you did," she whispered. "I know you're sad about how your Mom felt, but Heather's better off with you guys than out there alone in the system. And with her Dad in jail, things can only get better for her." She let me go and headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned around. "Sometimes choices hurt, Bee, no matter what choice you make. I think you made a good one. Be proud."

And she was gone.

###

"Rebecca Barnes?"

It was an hour later. I turned my head from the window to find a tall friendly-looking woman in a dark rumpled suit filling the doorway.

"Yes?" I said politely.

"I'm Detective Dominique Stabenow. Are you feeling up to talking about last night?"

I smiled slightly. "Not really, but go ahead. If it gets too tough, I'll just start crying and page the nurse on duty."

She gave me a sideways look. "What makes you think that will help? I'm pretty good at hand-to-hand combat."

"You haven't met Nurse Katie. I mean, you look like you can handle yourself okay, but Nurse Katie ... well, she looks like she could handle ten of you with one hand ... and without breaking a sweat."

The detective smiled and pulled up a chair. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"Please excuse the fashion statement," I said, plucking at the hideous teddy bear smock and smiling slightly. "I really hadn't planned on being beaten up last night, so I forgot to bring an overnight bag."

"Even Batgirl has a utility belt, Ms. Barnes," she said curtly. "Maybe you should think about that the next time you do something stupid."

There was a long silence ... until I broke it.

"Ouch!" I turned to one side and pretended to cringe. "Detective, please! Wasn't I beaten up enough last night?"

She looked away for an instant. I looked at the curve of her neck and tried to reassert some control.

"Tell me," I asked with just a touch of sarcasm. "Have the gloves come off yet, or was that just a pre-fight warm-up?" Stabenow turned back to face me.

"Metaphorically speaking, I haven't even touched you yet," she replied. "But last night was stupid. You could have died in that house, or been permanently brain damaged. The fact that your scheme worked -- and that you're still alive to tell about it -- is more a function of luck than anything else."

I looked into her eyes.

"You're right." The sound of my voice in the quiet room surprised even me. The detective raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, believe me, I know how dumb I was," I said coldly. "I'm small, and I'm thirteen, and I'm a girl. I had no right going into that house to try to protect a friend from someone like him. Heck, even a grown woman would have thought twice. I knew that going in."

She gave me a measured stare. "Then why did you do it?"

"You've seen the video?"

Stabenow nodded. "I've seen it."

"He was going to murder his daughter, then frame her for pushing cocaine and trying to kill him -- all because he thought she was going to tell someone he raped her, every day. Then he was going to kill me because she got away." I looked straight back at her, meeting her eyes without a flinch. "If I had been a good girl and let Mom just call the police, they would have found a stash of coke and a stack of lesbian porn in her room. I'm sure he would have worked the illegal handgun in somehow as well. If I had done the smart thing, she'd be a victim again. And he would walk." I closed my eyes and turned my face away from her. "Does he sound like a poster child for my letting you do your job, Detective?"

"I didn't say he wasn't scum, Rebecca," she said softly. "But you didn't know any of that going in."

"No, I didn't. All I knew was that someone had been hurting a friend for months and getting away with it. I just wanted it to stop." I sighed. "Would it have changed anything if I knew? Yes. I would have tried to get her out of there sooner."

There was a long silence. "You don't sound like a typical thirteen-year-old girl."

I snorted, but it made my head hurt again. "Puh-leease. Thre's no such thing. The only place you'll find a 'typical' thirteen-year-old girl is in some focus group report about choosing strawberry lip gloss. I'm just me. Stupid little me."

There was a silence, and I found myself strangely on edge. This woman scared me in a way I couldn't identify, and that just scared me more. "So you knew it was stupid, but you did it anyway." She shook her head. "Are you working on becoming an idiot, or does it just come naturally to you?" I said nothing. What could I say? She was right. "Any regrets? Second thoughts?"

I blinked, hard. Things spun for a minute, and I turned my head toward the window. I didn't want to go there, now, with her. But my mouth moved, and my voice came out, and it sounded small and empty. "The only thing I regret about last night was ... how much I hurt my Mom."

"Your Mom?"

"Yes." Suddenly, it was really hard to breathe. "She told me to stay in my room until the police arrived, but I didn't listen because I knew better. Then I went and almost got myself killed, and I didn't even think of Mom, and how she would feel if I .... if I ..." Tears just came, suddenly pouring down my face, and I felt my lower lip stick out and start trembling. "Oh, damn," I whimpered, looking away from the detective then closing my eyes. "I'm so sorry. I just ... This ... this is not ... I didn't think ..."

I started sobbing and I just couldn't stop. I kept thinking about how close I came to hurting my family -- the same way I had almost avoided by turning down that demon's offer such a short time ago. The night before, I had fallen victim to a different kind of demon, and they almost lost me a second time. With Jack's death so close in her mind, Carolyn must have been so afraid, I thought. Afraid of losing me, too. Why didn't I think about that? My shoulders started shaking and I began hiccupping, and all I wanted to do was drown in my own tears.

Suddenly I felt another weight on the edge of the bed, and a pair of arms wrapped around me and just held me.

"Ssssssh," someone whispered, and I realized it was the detective. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I shouldn't have been so harsh. I thought you'd be so full of yourself, and instead you're beating yourself up more than I ever would." She held me tight, and patted my shoulder. "It's okay, girl. What you did was stupid, but it was also very brave. Even though you were helping a friend, you must have been so afraid."

The floodgates opened all the way, and I just put my head on her chest and cried.

"It was awful." My whole body shuddered with every breath. "I promised Heather I'd help her, but on the way to her house I suddenly saw how dangerous the whole thing really was, and I got scared. I almost turned around right there. Then Heather looked at me with such hope, and I just couldn't turn back. I made a promise, and ... she'd been through so much, and I had to see it through. And I did, but I almost .... almost ..." And I just started sobbing again.

She held me for a moment, until the sobbing quieted. Then she spoke, softly but clearly.

"It took a lot of courage to go forward when what you really wanted to do was run. And even when things went sour, you didn't fold. You did your best, and bought time for Heather, and you got in a few good licks before he finally caught you. That's something to be proud of, hon."

"But my Mom ..."

"Your Mom knew you didn't do it to spite her, or for yourself," Stabenow whispered. "She knew you were doing it to help a friend, because you cared."

Eventually the crying stopped, but she still held me. And I let her, and felt better for it. She stroked my hair.

"Can I ask you something, Detective?"

"You just did." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Something personal?"

"Sure, hon."

"Do you have anyone ... special in your life?"

There was a silence. "Yes. I have a husband, and a little boy."

"The work you do ... it's dangerous, right?"

Another pause. I felt her nod. "Can be."

I pushed myself up to look her in the eye. "When you put yourself out there ... how do you ... how do you get past what your family might go through if anything happened to you?"

Stabenow thought for a long time before she spoke. "It's not something I need to worry about a lot. I spend too many days in a chair doing paperwork, or running investigations that don't involve putting myself in harm's way."

"But when they do ...?

"When they do," she said firmly, looking me in the eye with one finger under my chin, "I have to remember that the minute I took this job, my family became a lot bigger. I'm not just watching over Larry and my little Boo anymore. It's my job to protect and serve everyone, to the best of my ability. And if I do my job right, I get to go home to my boys, so I'd better damn well protect myself too. That's the best I can do, and still be true to who I am. Because this is what I do -- what I have to do, to be me. Do you understand?"

"I ... I think so." I can't NOT be the Advocate, I realized suddenly. I took the job, and there are too many people depending on me to protect them, even if they don't know it yet. I can't quit. So all I can do is watch my own back as best I can, to keep my family from losing me again.

Stabenow watched my thoughts running across my face, and smiled.

"Thinking about becoming a cop, Red?" She ran her fingers through my hair.

"Maybe," I replied, looking down. "But I was thinking ... maybe you don't 'become' a cop. Maybe it's who you already are inside, and you just ... grow into it."

"Maybe." She gave me a sideways look. "You just think a little harder next time, or you won't get a chance to grow into anything, okay?" I nodded. The detective let me go, stood up, and straightened her skirt. "Got to get back on the job. Break time is over."

"Didn't you come to get a statement ... or something?"

Stabenow smiled and shook her head. "No, hon. I just saw the tape and wanted to see who my partner was going to be in ten years or so." She bent over and kissed the undamaged side of my forehead. "You done good, baby. Thanks to that tape, he's tied up so tight he'll be lucky to get out before his social security checks start arriving. The case is so good, the D.A.'s office just laughed when his attorney tried to cut some kind of deal."

I felt confused. "But if I did okay, why ... why were you so mean to me before?"

"Because in a way, you're a rookie, and you got lucky," she said, and gave me the mean look they teach every officer in the academy. "And when a rookie gets lucky like you did, sometimes they start feeling bulletproof. I needed to make sure you knew how stupid -- and lucky -- you were, to do what you did and get away with it. Because we need cops like you, and it would be damned stupid to get yourself killed before you learn how to do the job right."

Stabenow rooted around in her bag and pulled out a business card. "The next time you need to do something stupid and brave, call me first. Maybe you'd like back-up." She handed me the card with a smile. "Or maybe you'd just like to talk. Home number's on the back. Get well soon, Ms. Barnes."

I smiled back. "My friends call me Becca."

"Well, Becca, my friends call me Detective Stabenow," she said sternly. Then she winked. "But future partners get to call me Dom."

"'kay ... Dom." She gave me a smile and a wave and walked out.

###

"Hey."

I opened my eyes and saw Tommy looking down at me. When he saw I was awake, he smiled and took my hand. I gave his hand a squeeze.

"Hey you," I replied, meeting his smile with one of my own.

"Amy called and let me know what happened," he said softly. "I had to get my brother to drive me on his way to the shop. I can't leave you alone for a single night, can I?" He kissed my hand, and it sent shivers down my spine even as a space deep inside me grew warm just knowing he was here.

"If I said you were right," I whispered back, "would you stay with me always?"

He shook his head. "Even if you told me I was wrong, I'd still be there. Always."

"You can't promise that." I shook my head. "You're only thirteen."

"So are you, Becca. So was Juliet, remember? That's what Shakespeare said in the play. We read it in English class. 'Not yet fourteen.' Even so, she knew what she felt." Tommy gave my hand a squeeze. "I know what I feel. Do you?" His eyes held mine with a seriousness that seemed out of place in such a young face. I blushed and nodded. He nodded back.

"See? We both know what's true. We know what we feel. So thirteen is just a number, right? It doesn't mean anything. What we feel has nothing to do with how old we are. It will still be true, no matter what." He lowered his face to mine, until we were only inches apart. "So if I tell you I will always be there for you, I will. Because ... I love you."

Then he kissed me, a soft gentle press of the lips. It spoke more of love than lust, even though it did make my toes curl. Always a good thing, I thought with a smile. Then the smile froze on my lips.

Tommy pulled back, and looked into my eyes. "What's wrong?"

I looked away. "You're not going to ... yell at me, are you?"

He looked confused. "What for?"

"For last night?" He frowned. I sighed. "Because I did something stupid?"

Tommy shrugged. "I don't know how stupid it was, babe. You saw something that needed to be done, and you did it. It's one of the things I've always liked about you. You always do what you think is right." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tommy pushed a stray hair off of my forehead. "Now, going in alone to take on Heather's Dad ... that was dumb. But that's part of who you are, too."

"Gee, thanks!" I half-pushed him away with a smile on my face.

"That's not what I mean. I mean, you should have had an army with you last night to help, but you don't like depending on anybody, even me. That makes me crazy. Of course, you always make me crazy -- but in a nice way, so I'm not complaining." He bent over to kiss me again.

This kiss was deeper, and warmed me from hair to heels. I felt heavy with desire, and my nipples rose, pressing up against the hospital gown. I reached up with my free hand to caress his face gently with my fingertips.

"Mmmm." He tasted of peppermint and coffee. I never knew they went together so well.

###

After a time, Tommy's brother Vinnie came in and dragged him away. First, he said hello. Then he ran his eyes over my bedraggled form on the bed and gave Tommy a discreet "thumbs up" he didn't think I saw. After one more soft kiss and a smile, Tommy let himself be dragged off. I was alone again. Or so I thought, as I stared off after him.

"He really does care for you." Miss Abby, my lavender bear, crawled over from the foot of the bed and sat beside me. I just nodded. She studied me with a critical eye. "You're troubled."

"Oh, yes," I said sharply. "About a lot of things. One thing about a hospital stay, it gives you plenty of time to think. Especially about what got you stuck in the hospital in the first place."

The bear looked down. "Your ... injury."

"Or lack of same. According to that doctor, I should be dead. Or near enough. Instead of a reservation in the morgue, all I've got is a headache. And a mystery." She didn't move, or speak. I just stared for a while. "You got something you want to tell me, there, 'Abby?'"

"Not really." The bear fidgeted and fussed with her ruffled skirt. "But if we must, we must." She heaved a sigh. "Very well. You're ... enhanced."

"Excuse me?"

The bear looked up and me, clearly resigned to the inevitable. "When we aged you, we took the liberty ... the opportunity ... to alter your base structure, all the way down to the molecular and genetic levels. We ... improved on the original." I stared at the bear like she had grown horns. The bear stared back, defiant. "We couldn't afford to lose you, Becca. You are needed. Magic alone couldn't protect you from the threats we knew you faced. We needed your body to withstand the rigors of Leander's 'training' -- not to mention the possible physical attacks you could be subjected to, just from being the Advocate and doing your job. And for you to die in a car accident or at the hands of a common criminal would be unthinkable. So we made that prospect ... unlikely."

"What did you do?" It came out in a whisper. I couldn't trust myself with anything louder.

"Made you stronger, faster, more agile, more ... durable. Extremely resistant to physical injury or disease. This ... augmentation, eventually combined with your magical abilities, would have made you nearly invincible."

"Didn't work too well last night, did it?" The edge in my voice was unmistakable.

"It worked well enough to keep you out of a drawer in the morgue," the Arbiter shot back, her own temper apparent in her tone.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We would have, eventually." The bear cocked her head at me. "At the beginning of your training, you had to believe your life was truly in danger for Leander's first effort to awaken your talent. And to be honest, we really weren't expecting you to put yourself in danger on the physical plane so ... quickly after beginning your new life."

"But if I had known --"

"If you had known," she interrupted, "you would still have hesitated to use your advantage, to avoid being seen as superhuman on that videotape. As a safeguard, we suppressed your new abilities for you last night, both to keep you from learning of them prematurely and to avoid 'poisoning the well' for Hunter's eventual return. As a result, you fought Heather's father using normal human abilities, and nearly won."

"Nearly!" I snorted.

The bear went on as if I hadn't spoken at all. "Since only your extraordinary resilience was brought into play to keep you alive, Heather's revised history remains essentially unchanged ... from a magical perspective."

"Theoretically."

The Arbiter sighed. "Yes, theoretically."

There was a long silence. Part of me was still angry that this ... modification ... was done to me without my knowledge or consent. Another part was glad they did what they did, since it meant I was still alive to be angry about it. After the day I spent agonizing over what I did to Carolyn, being told I was the real-world equivalent of a Teen Titan left me swimming in a sea of confusion. Truth be told, I didn't know HOW to feel. As a result, my anger shifted to a strange numbness as I tried to figure out what this meant, to me and my future.

I turned away then, staring out the doorway into the hall as I tried to digest what she had told me. I could see Jeremy waiting by the elevator. The doors opened and Heather stepped out. She was dressed in a pale blue scoop neck tee with a long dark blue skirt below, and when she saw him, her smile grew so wide it almost made me cry. She said something, and he turned around, and his arms went around her and they kissed, and tears did fall, from happiness more than anything else. They turned and headed for the cafeteria, which was just fine with me. I had unfinished business here.

"So, I'm more than human," I said to the bear, still watching them. "Better, stronger, faster. Essentially, a super-powered teenager."

"Essentially, yes." The Arbiter's tone was flat. No apologies there.

I watched Emma come up behind both of them, and put her arms around them. I suddenly remembered what she had said that morning, and I burst out laughing. I turned to see the Arbiter staring at me, confused.

"What is so funny?" she asked, slightly irritated. "We thought you were angry."

"I am," I said, tears and laughter mixing in my voice. "But it turns out Emma was right, after all. Thanks to you, I AM Buffy the freakin' Vampire Slayer!"

The bear shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous," she said with a stitched-on frown. "Buffy was blonde."

That only made me laugh harder.

© 2005-2006 as a work in progress, all rights reserved. Posted with permission of the author.

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To Be Continued...