Mouse had been scared before. When she was in eighth grade, her big sister Janice had been in a car accident, and she'd been called out of class to go to the hospital, because everyone thought Jan was going to die. That had been awful. And just last year, her nephew Mark had been diagnosed with cancer, which had been terrifying. Mark had been treated, and was doing well, but still.

Neither of those times compared to the utter, raging panic she felt now.

Leo was not here.
Leo was gone.
Leo was missing.
On a boat.

He was so small, tiny, really, and defenseless. There had to be fifty people on this boat, and she only knew and trusted two of them not to hurt Leo. One of them, actually, because Madeleine had just proven that she couldn't be trusted.

All of this blew through Mouse's brain like wildfire, in a matter of two or three seconds, as she stared into Madeleine's panic stricken eyes.

"He was just here not two seconds ago," Madeleine was screaming. Her friend with the bobbed hair was telling her to calm down, just calm down.

Mouse found someone in a uniform walking by. "The little boy I was with is missing," she said, trying to speak slowly and clearly. "What should we do? Whom should we tell?"

"We want to talk to someone in charge," Madeleine shouted into his face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Mouse ran to the side of the boat, dropping the sweater she was carrying, and the bag as well. She began looking out into the Hudson River, at the confluence where it joined the East River. The Brooklyn Bridge loomed overhead. She wished she knew more about currents and things like that. She stared out toward the Statue of Liberty, and out toward the open water.

Behind her, she could hear Madeleine and her friend, whose name seemed to be Natasha, asking about where a little boy could hide on the yacht. Or where someone could take him. Surely not.

The man was talking to someone on a walkie talkie, and Mouse could feel the boat slowing down in the water. Leo couldn't swim. And even if he could, the shore was so far.

Please let him be okay.

He would've wanted to look at the water again, where it came out from under the boat, like before, Mouse knew.

He was so small. Her brain kept repeating that, like a litany. His hands were so small. He could slip.

He was so small.

She was seeing things like a series of still frames. Behind her, she could hear shouting. Someone was sent in search of Henry, probably. Mouse kept scanning the surface of the ocean, unable to believe she was doing it, actually searching for Leo out there in the hugeness of New York Harbor. At least the sun had gone down, so there was no glare.

The sun had gone down, which meant it would be dark soon.

He was so small.

The boat was motionless in the water now, simply rocking with the motion of the gentle waves. The commotion behind her got louder but she couldn't turn around, she couldn't risk the time it would take to turn around.

Madeleine was next to her, saying something, but Mouse wasn't listening. She saw something out of the corner of her eye, and looked to where she thought she'd seen it. She could see only waves, the smooth rolling of the surface of the water. She saw it again, just under the surface, something white.

A leg, in blue and white shorts.

Mouse had no memory of jumping into the water, but suddenly she was swimming. She assumed Madeleine was next to her. Salt water was everywhere, it was in her mouth, brackish and gritty, obscuring her vision. It felt strange to swim wearing clothes, but she couldn't take the time to take anything off. At least her shirt was sleeveless. She swam a sort of modified breast stroke so she could see where she was going.

Now that she was in the water, it was actually easier to see where he was. She could see his hair, drifting in the current, around the back of his head, which looked like a large, irregularly-shaped nut. She could see his hand, and tried to see if it was moving at all, but couldn't tell.

And it was getting darker by the second.

Mouse tried to get her bearings, and struck out doing free style, since it was faster than what she'd been doing. She looked around for Madeleine, and realized with a shock that she was alone.

"Leo! Leo, I'm coming!" she shouted when she could. Then head down and swim some more.

She finally reached him, sweeping him into her arms, lifting his head above the water, holding it high with effort. It lolled back, terrifyingly lax, like a doll, completely limp. Mouse heard sobbing, and realized after a moment that it was her, she was crying, out in the middle of New York Harbor, holding Leo's lifeless body, shivering and weeping.

She was careful to keep him facing up, with one arm holding him firmly, under both of his little arms. She tried compressing his chest, but she couldn't tell if she was doing it properly or not because of the buoyancy and give of the water. His head rested on her shoulder. He wasn't moving at all.

She even contemplated attempting mouth-to-mouth, but she didn't think she could cover his mouth and nose with her own without submerging his little face. She took a quick moment to look around, to see how close the boat was to her.

The yacht drifted, a few hundred yards away, in near complete darkness now, though the deck lights had been turned on, it seemed. Everyone was gathered at the side and the stern, watching, and someone was shining a powerful spotlight on her, trying to keep her within its circle.

A small, inflatable craft had been launched from the yacht and was burbling noisily towards her and Leo, using the spotlight as guidance. A couple of minutes later, hands were taking Leo from her, then hauling her onboard.

Mouse took a breath to say something, but instead coughed, and began vomiting up sea water. She quickly turned so her head was hanging over the side, and she realized with the tiny part of her brain that was still functioning that she was barefoot, and that somehow, her pants were shredded, though she had no memory of catching them on anything.

She reached for Leo, and tilted him so his head hung down, trying to drain some of the water from his lungs, since neither of the men on the lifeboat had thought to do this. She had just started doing this when they were already back at the yacht, and there were more hands reaching to hoist her and Leo up and through the railing.

Henry was there, taking Leo, laying him out on the deck, crying, and Mouse knew what he was feeling. He looked up at Mouse, and, in spite of her condition, she was shocked at the anger she saw in them.

Mouse was shivering violently, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely speak. "Someone needs to do CPR," she managed to get out between her clenched teeth. "Mouth-to-mouth, too."

"No," someone said. "Mouth-to-mouth isn't done anymore, only chest compressions."

"No!" Mouse managed. "For drowning, for children under twelve, mouth-to-mouth!" Everyone was just standing around, looking upset.
Madeleine shoved her sweater under Leo's neck, hyperextending it, which was wrong for a child his age. Mouse yanked it out, tossing it out of the way and rolling him to his side, to try to get a little more seawater out of his airway. Then she rolled him back, and he was completely slack, like before. His eyelids and lips were blue.

"Oh god, oh no, Leo," Mouse murmured. But there was no time for that.

She began chest compressions, hoping she wasn't cracking any of his little ribs, hoping his bones were, at four, still flexible enough to absorb the motion. She did thirty compressions briskly, as she'd learned, then lifted his chin, pressing his forehead back. She listened for breath and heard nothing, so she continued, covering his mouth with her own, exhaling, watching for chest movement.

"Did someone call the coast guard? 911?" She asked before she began chest compressions again. She heard someone murmur the affirmative, so she continued, as one of the uniformed young men at least had the brains to make everyone back up and give them some room.

After Mouse had gone through two more cycles, Leo suddenly choked and coughed up sea water. Mouse immediately turned him to his side so he wouldn't choke, as the gathered people gave a collective sigh of relief. Mouse couldn't help the sob of relief that escaped her. Henry again stepped forward to hold him, but Mouse shook her head.

"Recovery position until the paramedics arrive," she gasped, flipping him over. She held him in position, even though he was moving around a little, and crying. "Shh, Leo, listen to me, listen, big guy, you have to stay this way, okay? You might choke again, and this is the safest position, okay? Nod your head if you understand me."

And he did, though by now he was shivering as hard as Mouse was. And finally, finally, Mouse heard sirens, and a loud boat motor, pull up next to the yacht. She hovered over his small body, trying to shield him from the wind, trying to comfort him. He was crying for his father.

"I'm here, I'm here, Leo," Henry responded, wiping his nose, which was running. "Ah, thank Christ, Leo."

Then the paramedics were there, and the Coast Guard, and everything was official, and everyone got calm, and Mouse was free to really cry. She was suddenly too weak to stand, and she realized that her wrist and ankle were in exquisite pain.

And she became aware that she wasn't wearing a shirt, that she was on the deck of the yacht in front of fifty strangers in her favorite peach bra, which was basically transparent. One of the paramedics wrapped a blanket around her, which she received gratefully. She tried to thank her, but she couldn't talk, and she just leaned against her shoulder and cried.

She watched as Leo was strapped down and off loaded to the other boat. He was crying, for his father, for Mouse, but she took this as a good sign. If he could cry, he had hydration, he wasn't too hypothermic, and he was getting oxygen, she hoped.

After a few minutes, the paramedic, whose name was Angela, tried to get her to lie down on a traveling stretcher, too.

"Why?" Mouse asked, mystified.

"You're injured, miss," Angela replied. "You have contusions on your head, wrist and ankle, multiple lacerations, you're hypothermic--you have to go to the hospital to be checked out, along with Leo over there, okay?"

So Mouse lay down, and assumed she was given something for the pain, because everything became sort of dreamy and strange. The next clear memory she had was of being in the hospital and waking up, in a lot of pain, with Leo in the bed next to her.

"Mouse? You awake?" she heard.

"Leo?"

"Uh huh."

While she was trying to figure out where she was and what had happened, Leo took matters into his own hands, and suddenly he was in her bed with her, luckily on the side without the IV, the side without her damaged, bandaged hand.

"Can I lie down with you?" His voice was small.

"Sure, big guy." Mouse rested her cheek on his head, which was crusty with sea water.

"Your voice sounds funny," Leo remarked. "Kind of rusty."

"Yeah, I was shouting a lot," Mouse said. "You remember what happened?"

She felt Leo nod.

"Mouse?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." Then Leo started crying, like with his whole body. "I was so bad, and I'm so sorry."

"Shh, Leo, don't cry, it's really bad for you to cry right now--" Mouse soothed him, and finally got him to go to sleep. She wondered if anyone was ever coming to check on them.

Just as she was wondering this, the door opened, and Henry and Madeleine entered. They saw that Mouse was awake, and Henry immediately pushed the button to call for the doctor.

"I'm glad you're awake," Henry said. "I was hoping to have this conversation without Leo," he continued. "However, it needs to be said, as soon as possible, I suppose."

Mouse was just looking at him, her arm around Leo. What?

"As soon as you're out of here, you'll have to get your things and move out of our home," Henry said, regretfully. "Considering that you saved Leo's life, I've decided not to file charges against you, but obviously you can't remain in my employ any more."

What?

Mouse finally found her voice.

"Henry? What do you mean?" She finally managed. Her voice sounded like she'd swallowed gravel, and talking hurt, but she had to ask.

She looked at Madeleine, who returned her gaze cooly. And suddenly Mouse understood.

"Really, Mouse, you should consider yourself lucky that Henry isn't pressing charges for negligence," Madeleine said, blinking rapidly.

"But he wasn't with me," Mouse said, trying, and failing, to raise her voice. "Madeleine, you know this! He was with you! You told me to get your sweater! You said to--" Mouse began to cough, and looked around for some water. She found a bottle, room temperature, but unopened. Henry opened it for her, and put a straw in it.

"Please, don't try to shift blame," Madeleine said, shaking her head. "You're his nanny, you're the one who was paid to watch him. I would never have let something like this happen."

Mouse just stared at her.

Her coughing had awakened Leo, and Henry picked him up, sitting down in a chair while holding him. "I'm so happy you're awake, buddy," Henry said softly. "We have to wait for the doctor to say you're okay, then we can take you home, okay?"

Leo just nodded, his eyes closed, holding on to his father.

Madeleine and Mouse locked eyes. Mouse shook her head at Madeleine.

"Daddy?" Leo said, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be mad at Madeleine, okay? It's not her fault. I snuck away while she was watching me. I wanted to see the water at the back of the boat, so I waited until she was talking to her friend, and I snuck away." Leo's voice was small. "Mouse wouldn't have let me go alone, I know, but Madeleine was busy talking to her friend, so I knew I could be sneaky, and I was bad. It wasn't really her fault."

"Leo?" Henry's voice was careful. "Are you saying that Madeleine was watching you when this happened? Is that what you're saying?"

Leo nodded without opening his eyes.

Henry shifted his gaze to Madeleine where she stood, at the foot of Mouse's bed. His eyes asked the question.

"Wait a minute," she said speaking only to Henry. Her voice went up a little. "You can't be taking the word of a child, a toddler, Henry!"

"Are you saying he's lying?" Henry's voice was disbelieving. "And regardless of who was watching him, you were next to her when she found him in the water, Madeleine. I could see you, for crying out loud!"

"What? You expected me to go in after him?" Madeleine cried. "It wouldn't have done any good for both of us to go into that miserable water, would it? And it was her job, after all--"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Henry's voice was low with fury, and Leo's eyes flew open when he heard his father say the forbidden word. "My son, my child, nearly drowned tonight, you realize that, right? He nearly died, and you're standing there discussing whose job it is to go in after him?"

Mouse, too, was staring at Madeleine, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Madeleine looked from Henry to Mouse, her blue eyes filling. "I'm leaving," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "Henry, we're finished, I think. I won't be spoken to in this manner. I simply won't."

She turned and left, her back ramrod straight.

Henry covered his eyes, shaking his head.

"Daddy? Is Madeleine never coming back?" Leo asked.

"No, son, I don't think she's ever coming back," Henry responded, his voice weary with fatigue.

"Oh. Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"I know you're sad, because I know you liked her, but I'm not sorry," Leo said softly. "I didn't like her."

Henry laughed. "I know, kiddo. I know."

"I love you, daddy."

"I love you too, Leo. I love you, too."

After a moment, Leo climbed down from his father's lap, and got back in bed with Mouse.

"And I love you, Mouse," he whispered.

"I love you back, big guy," Mouse said with a smile. "I love you back, and I'm so glad you're okay."