My eyes seem hollowed, sickly in the spotless oval mirror hanging in Ed's cozy bathroom. Gently, my fingers glide over the skin with cold water in a useless attempt to reinvigorate my weakened nerves. After a day of flights and a night terrorized by a cruel ex-husband, with a finale visit to the slammer, I don't know how I'm still upright.

Despite the lump of fear lodged deep into my chest at the thought of coming in contact with Dixon again, I am determined to beat him at his own sick game. The man that emerged from the shadows in my apartment last night deserves no ounce of sympathy. He deserves to pay for what he's done, for what he's trying to do to me­— to Giovanni.

As difficult as it may seem to fathom, incriminating Dixon is the only way out of this. That will be the only way to silence him. It won't be easy, considering he's been off the grid for so long.

But this is my specialty. This is what I've spent nearly a decade doing, what I do best. I protect my clients.

And Giovanni is my highest priority.

Which means pride must be put aside. Anger. Resentment.

I already know what needs to be done. And while the thought makes me sick, I know it's our best chance through this.

I exit the bathroom, fingers clutching the smooth sleeves of the raincoat I haven't taken off yet, and when I'm near the end of the hall, I hear whispers. I stop to listen, nervous about what I'll hear but positive I need to hear it.

"What is your plan? This guy doesn't seem like he's going to stop."

"No, he won't," Giovanni responds with a sigh, as if he's reluctant to answer him.

"How are you planning to keep him away from her?"

"You know, I really haven't gotten that far, Ed."

"Well, one thing's for sure, she can't stay in that apartment alone anymore. I think it's important that you spend your time here from now on."

"There is so much more to this than you know. And honestly, and I mean this with no offense, but it's best if you remain out of it."

"I care about her too, you know."

"I am well aware. That has nothing to do with this."

"It does. She needs more than you can give her."

"And what? What? You're saying you can offer her more?"

"I can. From the moment I saw her with you, I knew you would cause her trouble. And you forget, I was here, by her side when you up and left her for six months." He lowers his voice. "I watched as you stole the light from her eyes, and I hated you for it. That woman is fucking fantastic, and she deserves better than you. Better than me."

I hear a low chuckle from Giovanni. "I am aware that she deserves better. And maybe it was selfish of me to enter her life once again, but I'm a selfish man. I'll remind you that you are an overseer of our relationship; you have no goddamn clue what actually occurs between she and me." I hear the island high-top squeak softly as someone stands up. "Whether you like it or not, Ed, I'm going to be in her life as long as she wants me to be. So, I don't give a shit if you don't like me for her. I'm here; I'm hers. And that's the only thing that matters to me. Your qualms with me don't."

Before Ed can answer him, I hurry back and shut the door to the bathroom with emphasis, hoping the sound is loud enough to stop their ridiculous pissing contest. When I turn the corner, Ed's turned towards the coffee machine, and Giovanni is leaning against the island, gaze directed my way. I think my eavesdropping has gone unnoticed. Giovanni is noticeably bristling, but as I walk toward him, his features begin to relax.

"You alright?"

I nod, fidgeting with my coat.

"Want some coffee?" Ed asks as his fancy machine begins to roar into action.

"No, thank you ,though. I think I've imposed long enough. You've got to be exhausted." With one look at Giovanni, he's straightening, grabbing his bag. When I'm around the island, I embrace Ed, briefer than I normally would, his words still hovering in my mind. When I pull back, he smiles softly.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you for bailing me out."

He chuckles, letting me go. "Any day."

I nod, eventually gravitating back towards Giovanni, who is standing by the door. He opens the door, and I catch him glance at Ed.

"Thank you for your help."

"Don't mention it," Ed replies, shrugging his shoulders. He's clearly off center even looking at Giovanni, which makes my feet work even faster to get out of the apartment. When Giovanni shuts the door and turns to me, I exhale, relieved to be alone in this hallway, safe from watchful eyes.

Always knowing when I need him, he takes my face between his capable hands, coaxing me with soft, reassuring caresses. I close my eyes, gearing myself for what I have to say.

"I think we need to go see Norman."

When I risk a peek at him, expecting anger, I find none. He suddenly nods.

"Let's go, then."

...

Norman looks between us, his features marred by concern after I relayed the facts of my night to him. When I mentioned the violence I received at Dixon's hands, Giovanni's face began to pale, and it hasn't stopped since. I had forgotten that I'd left that part out when I first saw him.

At the finality of my conclusion, a conclusion that ends with Giovanni and I deciding to trust him, he stands, bracing himself against his desk.

"Alright, it seems it's time to brainstorm then. You're determined to take the chance? Of course, I will do what I can for you, but you're sure you want to risk everything? Because that is precisely what you are doing by staying together."

"I'm willing," I vow, and my eyes dart to Giovanni. He leans off the drywall, nodding.

"We both are."

I can't help but notice the resistance behind Giovanni's gaze. Knowing him, I can only imagine how irking it is to ask anyone for help, let alone Norman White. A man who tore us apart once before, threatening him with the very information that's being held over our heads now.

Norman nods, breathing in deeply. My eyes focus on his hand, which rubs at his chest momentarily in discomfort. "Well, you obviously came here for my opinion, so here it is."

"Even if you are together, everyone needs to believe you aren't. Dixon needs to believe you aren't."

Giovanni nods. "I need to be in California. She needs to be here."

"Precisely."

They seem to be on some frequency I cannot reach because that sounds suspiciously like a break to me. "No, that isn't what we agreed upon. We agreed to do this together."

"You will stay together and see each other, just out of the public eye. In the meantime, Scarlett, you need to stay somewhere other than that apartment. Because even if Dixon believes that you actually left Giovanni, it's not going to be enough for him."

I already knew that. But better yet, I know where Norman's getting at. As a defense mechanism, my arms surround my body.

"I have a very big apartment, with empty spaces and tough security. I think Monica would want you to come and stay with us in this situation." I eye him warily, and he holds up his hands, placating. "I won't bother you about anything. And it's just for now. Just a place of refuge until we can find a way to shut this guy up. Keep you safe."

Giovanni's uncommonly quiet, which only cements the fact that right now, neither of us can afford to be choosy, not if we want to stay together through this. And as much as I hate it, Norman is right.

With Giovanni in California, Dixon will only feel more powerful.

Giovanni crosses his arms. "I will go to see my brother, speak to him. See if I can find out what he wants, how much he said."

"Is there anything you have that could appeal to him? Keep him quiet?"

"No. Even if I dropped the charges, he's getting jail time. There's too much evidence against him. If what Dixon said is true and he did actually get in contact with a fed, Tony will take that route. He hates me enough right now."

Norman sits back down, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and reaches for the ringing phone. "Yes? No, push it back. I don't know, a half hour... Yes. What are you talking about? That meeting isn't until-"

Blowing out a controlled breath, my eyes soar upward to regather, and I turn, instantly gravitating closer to Giovanni. However, approaching, I shrink beneath his intensity.

"You told me he didn't hurt you," he whispers sternly.

"I didn't want to worry you. Besides, I am fine."

"Why are you wearing the jacket?" His gaze is set on the zipper directly under my chin. "It's not cold in here. Why do you have it zipped up like that?"

"You seem to already know. So why the hell do you need to make me say it?"

His eyes slant, his usually full lips slimmed into a hard line. "Are you hiding bruises?"

The moment I hear Norman set the phone down on the receiver, I turn and start toward him and away from Giovanni.

"Should we come back? If you're busy—"

He shakes his hand mid-air, stopping me. "They can wait. You and Giovanni can't meet here again like this, so I'd like to figure it all out now."

"We could meet in hotels?"

"It would be better if you were out of the city. Out of his jurisdiction." Norman begins to scribble onto paper. He holds out the sheet to Giovanni when he's done.

"What is it?" I watch as Giovanni scans the words.

"An address." We both look at Norman.

"It's to a cabin up near Cold Spring. Haven't been there in many, many years... You two are free to use it."

I blink at the stiff paper, suspicious of Norman's desire to help. I expected he'd give us advice. I expected that he'd tell us we'd be better apart, which he did. I expected him to tell me to stay somewhere else, and he did that too. But I'm stunned by his gracious offer.

And uneasy from it.

"I really think it's best if Scarlett remains in New York rather than fly to see you in California. If Dixon is keeping tabs, her consistent presence here should satisfy him until we can figure something out. In the meantime, Giovanni, I will lend you my plane on a day easiest for you to come into Cold Springs, as I am not fit to fly anymore."

With one glance at Giovanni's arched brow, his dark eyes disbelieving, I face Norman.

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's what you came for."

"We came for advice. Norman, this is too much. I mean, you don't even want us together. Why-"

"Why do you think I'm doing this?" He leans back into the plush leather seat. "You are my daughter. You are scared. I'm going to do whatever I can to help you."

His voice seems so trustworthy, so reassuringly paternal. I'm brought back to a time years ago when I'd actually look at him and wish to myself that in some other life, he had been my father, instead of the deadbeat I got. The worst part of it all is that my wish became true and I'm unable to bask in the fact, consumed by the dreadful reality of my birth. It's hard to even look at him, even if my heart does miss the familiarity of his presence in my life.

Norman directs his attention to Giovanni.

"I did what I did because I was trying to protect her from the constant negativity that seems to latch itself to you. And after today, I don't think I have to tell you that twice." We collectively stiffen together, and my defensiveness kicks in, riling my temper with a quickness. Norman senses that and quickly continues, "However, I must admit that you both have fought for this and put yourselves out in scrutiny, knowing the consequences. I didn't expect that, especially from you, Giovanni. I did what I thought was necessary for her. I didn't want her heart broken. I didn't want her hard work destroyed."

Giovanni expertly contains his composure, his face concealing any anger he may be feeling, masked in impassivity. "I've never been the enemy, Norman. I want the same things you do for her."

"Then let's work together."

I slide my hand into his smooth palm, feeling the need to touch him, somehow remind him that this is all worth it, even though I don't have much to back up that statement other than my love for him. He squeezes and then lets go at the sound of his phone, reaching to stop the noise. He looks at the screen.

"It's my mother. I need to get this."

I watch him leave through the door, more fearful for us than I'm willing to admit.

"I don't expect any of this to change your mind on me."

I turn back to Norman, moving with restraint, unwilling to give anything away.

"You're being very generous."

"I'm just comforted that you came to me for help if I'm being honest."

I nearly tell him that I suggested coming here because he's the only one with the Intel we need. But I stop myself, knowing even my harshness has its limits. He's helping us. My eyes gravitate back towards the doorway in search of Giovanni. The fleeting flash of worry that crossed his features when he saw who was calling cannot be good.

"I think you should come back to work here. I believe it would be a good idea."

I breathe in, already feeling like a prisoner, and I haven't even walked onto the streets yet.

"I already gave you my resignation."

"I haven't issued any formal notice."

"I have plans for myself, Norman. Plans I intend to follow through with."

"I understand that, but right now, you have enough to worry about. This will make you money. You know the work, the clients, the staff. You have a significant upper hand here, many connections." His features falter momentarily. "Anyways, I won't be able to work much longer. I feel a bit worse every day."

We sit in silence for a while, just looking at one another. He sighs and then breaks contact with me, focusing on his hands in his lap. My fingers curl into fists by my side, my emotions within causing chaos beneath my skin.

"You can still fight it," I tell him through my teeth.

"It's stage four pancreatic cancer. It's spread to my lungs. There is no fighting this."

"There have to be treatments—"

"It'll buy me no more than a few months." He shakes his head. "No, I'll let this run its natural course."

"Norman."

"I need you here, Scarlett."

I blink in shock. "What? What do you mean?"

He stares at me as if he's puzzled that I haven't pieced together what's already in his mind.

"You have to know I'm leaving you everything."

Leaving me—

I begin to shake my head from side to side, forcefully. My legs even begin to inch backward. "No, I don't want that."

"This company is yours. I'll have to step down soon. I need you to run it. Change the name if you'd like, do whatever you want, but please tell me you'll take what little I have to offer you."

"Little?"

"Yes, little, considering the disappointment I've offered you over the course of your life. I haven't given you anything of consequence, but I can give you my legacy. A security of money. Monica will receive a decent portion of my will and the apartment in the city; you will have the rest."

"Norman, she's your wife."

"And you're my blood."

"Does she know that?"

"She does now."

I blink wildly. "And what did she say?"

"She understands why I would want to do this, why I need to do this. I have done so much wrong to you. There is so much I want to say sorry for, yet I don't have enough time to do it. I'm trying to make amends. I'd like to not think I'm trying to buy your forgiveness, but doing all I can before I am gone to let you know I care. That I have always cared... I should have told you the truth a long time ago."

Water brims on my eyelids as I stare at him, horrified by his words and, what's more, my reaction to his words. The sudden bleakness I experience at the thought of him gone from my life forever. I'm scared, more than I want to admit.

"I... I don't know what to say."

I hear Giovanni speaking outside the door, becoming distracted by the sound, panic spilling into my reactions. I look from the doorway to Norman multiple times.

"Just say you'll accept it. Say you'll come back to take all of this over."

The realization of what's to come is what keeps me silent. The resurgence of a horrible aspect of my past, the awakening of my nightmares. The downgrade from an open public relationship to a private affair, once again. The feeling of being watched, hunted. The aspect of being thousands of miles away from the man I love.

"I know it's hard to—"

"I need some time... to think about it," I say, cutting him off. As I watch him nod, lips turning up with relief, I'm left with another realization.

That whether I want to admit it or not, I'm going to have to watch my father die.

...

"This is going to work."

I stare at my hands, nodding to myself without conviction. Having escaped to the abandoned floor that served weeks ago as the place we re-kindled our love affair, the place Giovanni finally took the chance to tell me he hadn't left me by choice, I expected to feel more hope.

But Norman's words scared me.

The thought of Giovanni leaving here scares me.

My eyes wander up and rest upon Giovanni, leaning against a pillar, finding his eyes cautiously observing me. I take the time to admire him closely, eyes sweeping over his features with appreciation. I spend so much time with him, yet he never fails to stun me. There are no flaws, no places within him that seem to need fixing.

He is a beautiful, reckless man, willing to risk so much for a person he met only a year ago. His mouth curves up on one side.

"This is going to work, Scarlett."

He stops in front of me, having to look down to find my eyes because I'm sitting on top of a workbench table. He waits for me to speak, but my mouth remains sealed shut, knowing that anything that will come from it will disrupt this hope we're trying to maintain to get us through this nightmare.

"Talk to me, baby."

I inhale sharply, sitting straight, my hands moving to grip the corner of the wood I'm sitting on. My eyes roll to the ceiling in an effort to control myself. It seems like everything from the night before, the meeting with Norman, and my exhaustion now has suddenly come to a head, and I'm overwhelmed.

I dare meet his eyes, barely able to hold his gaze. I shrug, but my mouth betrays me, quivering when I whisper, "I'm scared."

He seems to deflate and moves towards me, wrapping his arm around my body, pulling me into him for comfort. At my stiffness, his hand caresses up my spine to the nape of my neck to urge me to give in to him. I shiver, reactively pushing back against his hand as the area radiates pain, my nerves shooting every which way under my skin, sore from Dixon's hands.

He drops his hand down to the middle of my back but completely stills. I close my eyes, pressing my face into his shoulder. Now he's the one who's stiff. He pulls back with a calculated slowness and doesn't ask for permission. My swallow echoes around us as he gently grasps the zipper to the raincoat, easing it down. I stare at him closely, finding he isn't breathing.

He stops the zipper mid-chest, and what I dreaded to see spreads across his features. His eyes slim and flinch, the skin around them crinkling with regret. They darken, taking in the damage. I don't know what he sees, and I'm glad for it.

The pain is enough.

He finally exhales, and with that, looks down at his feet.

"It's alright... Gio."

He doesn't respond or look at me. He just moves into me again, circling my body with his arms. I press my cheek to his face, which rests against my shoulder. My hands comb through his satiny hair, water filling my eyes when I feel the gentle touch of his lips against my throat. My fingers cease in his locks as his mouth sweeps over the skin, offering apology and love to the wounded area.

"Fuck, you don't deserve this," he whispers helplessly, and my heart sinks at the thickness in his voice. "I'm sorry I didn't stop him. I should have—"

He's crying.

I shake my head, my arms dropping to his shoulders. My fingers clutch the material of his shirt as I hold him to me.

"Don't."

He pulls back, inches from my face, nearly losing it, and I quickly reach to wipe his eyes, shaking my head as I press my lips to his cheek tenderly.

"Don't, Gio."

"I want to kill him."

"No, we will beat him in this," I respond, suddenly consumed in making sure he's okay, somehow finding the courage I was lacking a moment ago. "That will do it."

"I don't know how I'm going to leave you here." His eyes have lost their soundness, and I'm relieved that he's dropped any and all masks, displaying the same fear I've been feeling all morning.

It's alright to be scared.

I continue to lay soft, reassuring kisses on his face, taking in the moment, knowing he won't be here in a few minutes and I'll have to wait days, even weeks, to see him again.

"I'll be okay. I will."

"Scarlett," he breathes in an unstable voice, embracing me again.

We hold each other as tight as we can, so tight that I begin to hope I'll still be able to feel it when he's gone.