I got to the diner that morning after my shot had been administered by Dr. Lennox. Of course, my reasons for going on it in the first place couldn't readily be discussed, and I had to sign a goddamned form in order to get it so quickly, but, all in all, I knew it was the right thing to do for me at the time. The last thing I needed was a baby depending on me, in utero or outside of it, when I was getting closer and closer to my breaking point. I knew that I was at high-risk for breaking sobriety a second time; Tommy, like Frank, believed that AA was a joke and that giving yourself over to a higher power was a bunch of bullshit.

I parked in front of Patsy's about half an hour after my appointment, pulling off my gloves and massaging my temples deftly with my fingers. The notion that Tommy had been inside me just a little over an hour ago made me sick, and I'd also asked for a morning-after pill from Dr. Lennox, just in case, due to his carelessness. Of course, I could've easily said no to Tommy; and yet, I was becoming conditioned not to do so, knowing full well that he could've slammed his fist into my face—or another part of my body—at a million miles an hour, and I wouldn't be able to duck in time to prevent it.

I dashed the tears from my eyes, making sure that they weren't red-rimmed before I got out of my car and did my best not to slip on the rain-slick street. Grabbing my purse and slamming my door behind me, I hopped up onto the sidewalk, locking my car and making my way towards the door of Patsy's and letting myself in. "Morning," I said to my staff, attempting to grin at them all as I trudged back, going in through the employees only area, down the small hallway, and into my office. Shutting my door behind me, I leaned against it, dragging my hand across my face before I shrugged out of my jacket and forced myself to straighten up and walk slowly towards my desk.

As I pulled myself forward at my desk, rolling my shoulders and setting my phone down, breathing in sharply through my teeth as I inched forward, pulling the quotes of pie ingredient prices towards me. Grimacing, I pulled back then, lifting up my sweater and peering at my stomach, where a three-inch bruise met my eyes. I rolled my eyes, knowing that it had happened when Tommy had slammed me repeatedly into the counter that morning, during his vicious attack, where it was better to just stand up straight and take it rather than take a beating. I shook my head then, hating that he'd left a mark on me, despite the notion that I'd cooperated with him completely, and knew that I'd signed on for this. I had to keep going.

I keep going through the quotes on prices of inventory for over an hour, finding that my enemy of math was now a welcome distraction from all that was going on in my life. I ran a hand along my stomach, twitching a little at the sparks of pain my own touch rendered, and shook my head at myself again. I knew I could've run with Nicholas, but I wasn't stupid; eventually, the law would have caught up with all of us, and the kids could've been taken away. They were better off with Ian than in some state-run home; I knew that much from the times my siblings had been dumped in foster care. And with my own adoption/kidnapping to consider, I knew that Ian would show them the love, appreciation, compassion, and understanding they truly needed.

"Murphy?" called a voice about an hour and a quarter into my paperwork, and the door to my office opened slowly.

I looked up, forcing a smile onto my face. "Hey, Sierra. Everything okay? Is a customer being belligerent or harassing? Need me to show them some South Side?"

Sierra smiled back at me. "No, Murphy, it's not that. You actually have someone out here who wants to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" I asked, pushing back from my desk and getting to my feet, continuing to smile despite the fact that it felt as if I was standing on blocks of lead.

"He says it's personal," Sierra explained.

I blinked. "Uh, yeah, okay. I have a few minutes... Who is it?"

"It's me," said a voice, and Sierra stepped back, allowing my visitor to come forward, and my jaw nearly hit the floor when I saw who it was.

"Liam," I gasped as Sierra drifted back out into the restaurant to give us some privacy. "Come on in, little man," I said, ushering him into my office and shutting my door behind me. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Liam sighed. "Saw you talking with Ian earlier."

I bit my lip. "Yeah? You saw that, huh?"

He nodded. "And heard some of it."

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms. "Yeah, well, we Gallagher's tend to be loud when we wanna be," I joked, "so, it'd be difficult for you not to. Hear it, I mean..."

Liam looked me squarely in the eye then, and it was the first time that I truly considered how much time had gone by from his point of view. He was in the middle of his childhood when I'd first returned home; now he was smack-dab in the middle of his adolescent years as someone who was taking college courses, due to skipping three grades in elementary school. "I wanna ask something, Murph, and I want a straight answer."

I sighed, my shoulders deflating ever so slightly. "I know what you're going to ask, Liam, and I don't want you involved in this."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded. "I'm your brother..."

"Yeah, you're my brother—my youngest brother," I replied, "who I helped raised, although god knows I should've been here from day one..."

"Murph, stop it with your back story for two minutes, please!" Liam said, his voice bordering on annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "Come the fuck on! I'm not a child anymore, and I reserve the right to ask why the hell you aren't a part of my lives, or your kids' lives, anymore..."

I scoffed. "Jesus, Liam. Why do you have to make something sound so overdramatic?"

"I'm not being overdramatic! I'm being your brother!" Liam's dark eyes sized me up then, and I wondered what he was thinking. He still possessed his sweet, sensitive side—even in his teenage years—and my heart broke that I couldn't be honest with him, or with anyone. "Please, Murph, I'm literally begging you. I'm your brother..."

I shook my head at him, literally cutting him off. "Which makes me your sister, which gives me the right to ask why the hell aren't you in class?"

Liam narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "This isn't about me, Murphy. This is about you." He spoke in a hard, firm voice, and the notion that he was addressing me by my full name was not lost on me. "We're talking about you here," he said again.

"You know that Lip and Ian will go ape shit if you cut class," I said warningly. "Lip had to drop out of college, you know, because of family shit. A college degree can get you really far in your life, Liam. I know it can, and you'll have such a bright future—"

"Really?" he replied, cuttingly. "Like yours?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You watch it, Liam."

"Why?" he demanded, getting up into my face, and I very nearly shrank back from him. "Can't handle the truth for two seconds, Murphy?! Here's the truth for you—you have a fucking college degree, and look where it got you! Back to the ghetto where you were born! Sure, you got a cushy job for a while, but you ditched that when fucking Fiona begged you to take over her little restaurant! Sure, you're your own boss and all that good shit, but it contributed to the breakdown of your already failing marriage! You constantly let your obnoxious side out—blaming your past for everything that went wrong in your life! Oh, boo-hoo, I'm Murphy, poor me, I was adopted by a rich couple, and was given everything I could've ever wanted in life—"

I felt myself sweating from beneath the bulky sweatshirt I was wearing, gritting my teeth at Liam's tirade against me. The mocking tone he used, the lack of information on the subject at hand, truly cut me to the core. I'd never given him the details of my past with Tina and Dr. Normal—only Nicholas and Ian knew the full version, while Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Tommy knew the abridged version, while Carl knew a PG rendition of it all. As I stood there, listening to my youngest sibling hurl insults at me about my past, I felt myself unraveling quickly...

"—but it just never seemed to be enough for you, did it, Murphy? Always going on and on and on about how Monica arranged for you to be kidnapped and sent off to the other end of the country, to be raised by a wealthy childless couple. You had everything you could've ever wanted, but you just had to figure out where you came from, and even though the mystery was solved a long time ago, but you keep going back to it, over, and over, and over again. Back to the beginning, almost as is you're stuck in a fucking time loop or something! Give it the fuck up, Murphy! You had everything you needed! Deal with it!"

I shook my head then, and felt relief when Liam finally ended his little speech. "You don't know the half of it, Liam," I replied, deathly calm.

He crossed his arms. "What don't I know now?"

"My adoptive father, Martin, left the family unit when I was five," I reply, and Liam's jaw stiffens then in momentary discomfort. "Tina, my adoptive mother, tried to make it work for a few months, but she met a doctor, Norman, or Dr. Normal, and they had a whirlwind romance and got married soon after her divorce from Martin was finalized. Tina thought she couldn't have kids, right?" I said, chuckling darkly. "Surprise, surprise—she had three boys, one right after the other, and I was suddenly this adopted child that didn't belong. After the boys were born, I was neglected, which is such a terrible form of abuse, because it's like you don't even exist," I went on, my tone bitter as I recounted my childhood. "Then, the boys soon realized that I was this outlier among the family, and constantly pulled shit that would get me into trouble. Dr. Normal would then tell my mother to continue to ignore me, and, once she and the boys formed their own little club, as it were, Dr. Normal was free to use me as his playground. I'd get beatings with his fists, or with his belt, or whatever he could manage to get his doctor hands on."

Liam looked away. "I'm sorry, Murphy. I didn't know."

"No, you didn't, but that's not the worst part," I replied, and his eyes snapped back to mine. "I had a girlfriend, named Jessica, when I was about your age. We started hanging out, I guess you could say, and it escalated from there..."

"I know what you mean," Liam said quietly.

"Good," I said. "Anyhow, after a couple of years, we grew a little more...brazen, in our pursuits, and so I decided it would be fun to hook up in my childhood bedroom, instead of the dorm room I had at college."

"Dr. Normal catch you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he fucking did," I replied. "Threw Jessica out of the house, and beat me for several hours. Wanted to beat the dyke out of me," I said bitterly, recalling his harsh words for the first time in years—the one element of the story that nobody else knew. "So, sure, Liam, I did have shit I needed, or thought I did at the time—cell phone, laptop, car... But what I really needed was love, something I didn't feel from anyone until I was sixteen-years-old, from Jessica, although I wouldn't understand it for over five years. I may have come home, Liam, but it was originally because I got a job here, thanks to my college degree. I didn't even know I was adopted until I accepted the job."

"You didn't know?" Liam asked.

I shook my head. "No. Tina told me just after my graduation from college."

"So, all those years you lived with your adopted family, you just thought Tina and Martin were your biological parents?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"And the treatment Dr. Normal put you through?"

I shrugged. "I was so busy working on school work to get myself out of there from the time that I was a kid, that I didn't socialize much with people," I said quietly. "And since I didn't socialize much with people, I had no way of knowing what a loving family looked like. Unfortunately, I just assumed that the way I was being raised was completely normal."

Liam stared at me then—not accusingly, just curiously. "So, all this is difficult for you to talk about, then?" he asked.

I gave him a stiff nod. "Yeah."

"So, is that why you won't talk to us now? Any of us?"

I lowered my eyes. "Can you just drop it, please?"

Liam reached out then and gripped my arm, so much so that my eyes flashed back to his. "Liam, stop that! You're hurting me!"

"Talk to me," Liam said softly. "Please. Talk to me, or Lip, or Ian, or Debbie. Hell, even call Fiona and talk to her. But talk to one of us, at least..."

I smiled ruefully. "Carl?"

Liam shrugged. "We never know if he's gonna be in a good service area."

I laughed a little then. "Good point."

"So, are you going to talk to us? Any of us?"

I sighed, somehow managing to yank my arm out of his grip. I stepped around him then and pulled open my office door. "I have a lot of work to do, Liam," I said levelly, "and so I don't have time to talk right now. But thank you for stopping by."

Liam trudged slowly to the door, before daring to look at me one final time. "Murphy, I just want you to know that this isn't over."

I shook my head at him. "All of this is over," I replied, shutting the door on his face.

. . .

I had wanted to hit him, and it scared the shit out of me.

The pain and anger that coursed through me as soon as I heard Liam's footsteps finally drifting away from the other side of my office door would not leave me. Rage peppered my veins, and I gripped onto the paneling of the door, bracing myself against it, and wondered then if all the rage, bitterness, and unhappiness that now bubbled inside me would ever go away. I dragged my hand across my forehead, beads of sweat attaching themselves to my fingers, which I promptly wiped on my jeans.

I wanted to hit my younger brother. And I hated myself for it.

I stepped out of my office around three o'clock that afternoon, shuffling out to the alley, the cool mid-autumn weather welcoming onto my sweating skin. What I wouldn't give for an ice cold beer right about then... I pushed the thought from my mind, leaning against the back wall of the restaurant, and fumbling in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes. I lit one up promptly, shuddering as its comforting warmth filled my veins, before taking it out from between my lips and tapping it slightly with my thumb, allowing it to rest between my index and middle finger, the plume of smoke wafting into the cool air.

"You look like shit."

The familiarity of the voice caused the hairs on every inch of my body to stand at attention, and I turned to see Ian coming down the alley. "Hey," I said, attempting to appear nonchalant as he stepped forward, and allowed him to take the cigarette from me. "How'd you find me?"

"Sierra said you were back here, that you take a smoke break around three every afternoon," he said, inhaling the cigarette for a moment before he handed it back to me. "Liam texted. Said he stopped by this morning."

I shrugged, sticking the cigarette back into my mouth and coaxing more of the tobacco into my lungs quickly, not even a cough escaping my lips. "Yeah?" I said, my tone noncommittal as I finally released the cigarette, offering it to Ian, who took it. "What of it?"

Ian stared at me then, allowing the plume of smoke to escape from between his fingers as he contemplated what he was going to say next. "You're going to just stare at me dead in the face and pretend you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about?"

I grumbled under my breath, leaning back against the rear of the restaurant again, raising my eyes to the cloud-filled November sky. "Look, Ian... I don't know why you came by, but I'm guessing it has to do with your interrogation sessions of late."

"They're not interrogation sessions, Murph, Jesus," Ian said under his breath. "Can't you just accept that your family actually gives a shit? Did Dr. Normal fuck you up so much that you're unable to see that? Or is it Tommy, spreading lies against us?"

My head snapped around to glare at Ian, and even though the rage still bubbled just beneath the surface, my voice trembled when I spoke. "Don't you dare speak about Tommy that way," I said to him, snatching the cigarette back. "I don't give a fuck how you feel about him, but he and I are engaged, and you've got to accept that."

"I don't have to accept shit, Murphy," Ian said, narrowing his eyes at me as I stuck the cigarette back in between my teeth. "I fucking hate Tommy for what he's done to you, and what he continues to do to you."

I shake my head at him, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Tommy isn't doing shit to me, Ian, and the sooner you get with the program and believe that, the better."

Ian crossed his arms. "I don't believe you."

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus, Ian, I'm not asking you to fucking believe me, or to trust me. I'm not asking for anything like that. Just attempt to be civil when we come over for Thanksgiving in a few weeks. We've had enough holiday drama..."

"Why the fuck can't you just drop him, Murph?" Ian demanded. "You haven't even given me the whole story about Nicholas cutting out. All I know is that he hit you. Did something happen with Tommy that would make him want to leave?!"

"Jesus, just leave it and all of it alone," I said, shoving the cigarette back at him and turning away from him. "I'm sick and tired of all this goddamned rehashing. Just...stop..."

"I'd stop if you gave me a fucking straight answer!" Ian shouted, grabbing me by my shoulder and holding me there.

"Fuck!" I yelled. "Let go of me!"

"Not until you tell me the fucking truth!" he screamed back, turning me around to face him. "I don't understand what's gotten into you lately! What's so bad about leaning on your family? I mean, we never see you anymore, and your personality has totally changed... What the fuck are you hiding from us, Murph?"

I shook my head at him. "I'm not hiding anything—"

"Don't give me that bullshit, because it's a load of it," Ian said, gripping me by my shoulders and pinning me to where I stood. "What the fuck happened with Nicholas?"

I shook my head, turning away. "He got pissed because Tommy crossed a line," I replied. "I mean, you know about him kissing me..."

Ian rolled his eyes in disgust. "Of course I do—Kev fucking told me," he replied. "But what's the big deal? Was it because you didn't tell Nicholas about it?"

"Of course I didn't tell Nicholas about it!" I shot back, my eyes flashing back to his. "I'd only just told him about relapsing and drinking again, not to mention the fact that I knew about the P.I. that I found out Hugo got to fucking stalk me! We were on thin ice, Ian, but the real breakdown came when I told him that Tommy came over and fucked me when he was locked up for interrogation..."

Ian stared at me then, almost as if he didn't even know me, as he slowly released his grip upon my shoulder. "What the fuck, Murphy?" he whispered. "Why would you...?"

"Tell him the truth?" I asked him then, hating that I had to lie to Ian, but also knew that I had to keep my story straight. "Nicholas had already made up his mind like the spineless coward he was to fucking run off like a pussy. Not my fault Tommy decided to step up and pick up the pieces of my shattered romantic life..."

"I thought you would at least call Jessica, after that night at the club," Ian replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Jessica? Please. Told me right afterwards that she wanted to go back to her husband and kids. Who was I to stand in her way?"

Ian looked me squarely in the eye. "You never told me that."

"There's a lot I haven't told you," I reply, "and won't tell you."

"What's the harm in telling me?" Ian asked, his tone gentle. "What are you so afraid of? That I won't love you anymore?"

I scoffed. "Love? Jesus. Love doesn't exist for people like me. I can't even fucking to say it to any of my significant others, because I'm so fucking afraid that they'll eventually leave," I mutter then, throwing myself up against the back of the restaurant, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why does it fucking matter? Everyone always leaves anyway..."

"Murph..."

"Don't," I said, shaking my head at him. "Keep the cigarette..."

"Murph, don't!" Ian shouted then, grabbing ahold of my sweatshirt then, pulling at it, and even though I struggled against him, he got it off from over my head, and there I stood before him, in my tank top and jeans, turning around to face him then, almost as if for the first time, the dots of black and purple covering the vast majority of my skin.

"Ian," I said quietly, my voice shaking again. "It's not..."

"Don't fucking tell me it's not what it looks like!" Ian screamed, his eyes filled with rage. "I can't believe you would keep this from me—"

I shake my head at him. "It's not—it's really not! Please...don't...."

"The jitters, the baggy clothes, the screaming with pain whenever one of us touches you... What the fuck is going on in that house?"

I shake my head. "None of your fucking business, Ian," I say flatly, reaching out in an attempt to get my sweatshirt back, and fail miserably.

"Don't tell me it's none of my fucking business! You're my sister!"

"It's none of your fucking business if I say it's none of your fucking business!" I scream back at him, finally managing to get my sweatshirt back, and pull it over my head. "Nothing is going on here that should concern you—!"

"If Tommy's fucking beating you, Murphy, I think it's a cause for concern—"

"Just shut the fuck up!" I yelled then, cutting him off. "You don't know shit! None of you know shit about any of this. Just fucking drop it. Please."

Ian stared at me then, slowly opening his mouth. "Murph, please..."

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm done. All of this is fucking done," I reply, turning on my heel before he can stop me again, and head back into the restaurant.

. . .

Tommy had an undercover assignment, leaving at dawn the following day, and he informed me that he was assigned until the night before Thanksgiving. I played the part of a dutiful wife-to-be, stopping at the store and buying all his favorite non-perishable snacks, and waking up with him to kiss him goodbye before he left in the morning, before the sun came up. I trudged back up the stairs—after the obligatory kiss was given—and promptly went into the master bedroom, only to pull off the silk robe Tommy insisted I wear, and yanked on a T-shirt and shorts, before I went down the hallway and into the guest bedroom. I climbed into the bed, about to sleep, but my heart momentarily broke when I inhaled the sheets; since Tommy didn't like overnight guests, the room hadn't been touched since before Nicholas had left. The sheets smelled of him, sending a tingle through me, and I gripped the pillow then, my eyes filling with tears as I clutched it to my heart, my eyes growing heavy as I fell asleep...

I was on my toes on Thanksgiving Day, knowing full well that Tommy would expect me to be on my best behavior when we saw my family. I had gone to the diner just an hour before we were due over at the house, picking up a pie for the dinner itself, before Tommy and I walked across the street together. I let myself in with my key—heaven knew why Ian still permitted me to hold onto it—and walked cautiously over the threshold, aware of Tommy shadowing me the entire time. Forcing a smile onto my face as we walked into the living room, I did my best not to flinch as Tommy shut the outer door behind me.

"Hi, everyone," I said, wanting very much to run up and hug each of them in turn, but also knowing full well that they wouldn't want to be anywhere near me.

"Pie?" Debbie asked, giving it a cursory glance.

I nodded. "Yep. Baked it myself."

"Great," she said, snatching it from me and bringing it into the kitchen, where I noticed Ian and Lip helping V cook.

Kev was sitting on the couch, a bottle of Old Style in his hand, and scattered around him were Franny, Liam, Iana, Fionn, Clayton, Amy, and Gemma.

"Hey, Kev," I said, trying to smile at him.

Kev merely looked up at me for a fraction of a second. "Murph," he said levelly, turning back to the game on T.V.

"Hi, babies," I said, walking up to my children, Tommy, for once, giving me some space, and crouched before them all. "How're you doing?"

Iana shrugged. "Fine."

"Okay," I said, turning to my boys. "And you guys?"

Iana turned to her brothers, her expression matching Fiona's in a moment of protection. "It's just Mama," she said, her tone gentle, but I could still feel the malice directed at me. "Go ahead. Tell her 'hello'."

"Hello," Fionn said uneasily.

"Hi," Clayton said a moment later.

"Hey, guys," I said, wanting more than anything to snatch them up into my arms and kiss them all, but knowing they wouldn't appreciate that. "Good to see you," I went on, wanting to say more, but forced myself to get to my feet and walk into the kitchen, where Tommy had already invited himself to go. "Hey, V," I said, and, thankfully, she gave me a kind smile, although her dark eyes seemed to watch Tommy wherever he walked. "Can I help with anything?"

"We're fine," Debbie cut across her, narrowing her eyes at me before she brought out the stack of plates to set the table.

"Just hang out," V said with a smile, squeezing my shoulder, and I did my best not to wince at the pressure.

"Sure," I replied. "I can do that..."

"Hello, my darling daughter," Frank boomed then, coming down the stairs, his hair freshly washed, as he buttoned a shirt and came towards me, kissing me on the cheek, and I did my best to smile at him.

"Hey, Frank," I said, relieved that he hadn't called me "Murph".

"Gee, Frank, mothballs," Lip said, his tone filled with sarcasm. "Sure as shit is a better scent than Old Style."

"Speaking of," Frank said, walking over to the fridge and retrieving a bottle. "I think I'll indulge in one before dinner. Would you like one, Murph?"

Thought too soon... "Well," I began.

"She's fine," Lip said, cutting across me. "Neither of us need that, Frank."

"Right, right," Frank said, walking into the living room. "Kevin, my good man!"

Debbie returned to the kitchen then, likely in pursuit of some silverware. As she stepped inside, she bumped into the back of my shoulder, hard, and I gasped a little too loudly at the sudden impact, and the pain that shot through me immediately afterwards. "Excuse you," Debbie said, not even looking at me, and proceeded to dig through the drawer, managing to find one of everything for everyone, and bringing it back to the table, all of which, Ian noticed.

"Oh, and before we forget," Tommy said, from his place where he stood up against the back wall, "Murphy and I have some news."

Ian's eyes snapped to mine. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," Tommy said, and I could tell from Ian's expression that he was mentally crossing his fingers that I wasn't pregnant. "We've set a wedding date."

"Tommy—" I said, intending to cut across him, as we'd had no such discussion.

"Have you?" V asked, obviously concerned.

"We have," Tommy replied. "We've set it for this June. Isn't that amazing?"

"Fuck this," Ian said, lowering the knife he'd been using the slice the yams.

"Ian?" Lip asked, from where he stood at the sink peeling potatoes, watching as Ian marched over to Tommy without hesitation.

"Tommy, outside, now," he said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Tommy looked amused. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I think you heard me," Ian said, his voice laced with anger. "Get your ass outside right now before I kick it there."

Tommy laughed aloud. "You fucking with me?" he asked.

Ian's hands quickly balled into fists. "Oh, I'm not fucking with you, Tommy. Get outside."

"Hey, hey, it's Thanksgiving!" V managed to put in, as Ian yanked the door open, and shoved Tommy out onto the porch, and would've kicked him down the stairs had he not moved quickly enough for his liking.

"Ian!" I cried out then, dashing after them.

I vaguely heard the sounds of footsteps behind me, but I didn't care; a million scenarios played out in my head, and I didn't see a positive outcome for any of them. I stumbled out onto the tiny back porch, taking the steps two at a time, until I ended up on the sparse back lawn, my mouth falling open then at what I saw. Ian and Tommy were, quite literally, sparing, circling one another like a lion would its prey, except neither one fell into the category of prey. Each was a fierce lion, combative in their own way, both of their eyes blazing with anger, and I knew then that nothing could be good about this. If this got too out of hand, Tommy could clobber Ian, and it could very well ruin everything I'd worked so hard for—

Ian threw the first punch, but it missed Tommy by a mile, who ducked out of the way, and successfully landing Ian in the gut. Pain flashed across Ian's face, and he dove at Tommy then, slamming his head into Tommy's stomach, who swore as he doubled backwards. Ian dashed backwards from Tommy then, who curled his hands into a fist. I could very nearly see it swinging towards Ian, who also got in position to deliver a decent swing, but I could not let that happen, any of it.

"Stop! Stop! Don't do this!"

I didn't know where the words had come until I found myself charging forward, until I was dead-center in the fray, ignoring my shaking limbs as I stood between them. I became a deer in the headlights in that moment, as the two of them realized too late that I stood there, both of them bringing down their fists before they could stop themselves. And I, caught in the middle, suffered the consequences as the punch was delivered, and I fell down then, between them, a casualty of the fight that these two men in my life had found themselves caught up in.

. . .

My eyelids were heavy, and when I finally found I was able to open them, I was staring at the white ceiling of what I assumed was a hospital. A heart monitor beeped beside me, and an I.V. was placed in the vein of my heavily-bruised right arm. I looked around me then, spotting that Tommy was just outside the door, speaking to someone garbed in a white coat, and realized that he was speaking to the doctor. I sat up in bed as they both stepped inside, shocked as Tommy rushed to my side and kissed me as soon as they'd crossed the threshold.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking around. "Why am I here?"

"You were hit pretty badly in the head," the doctor explained. "Thankfully, you don't have a concussion, and there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage."

I blinked. "Oh. Well, thanks, I guess..."

"Can I have some time with my fiancée now?" Tommy asked, charming as ever.

The doctor smiled indulgently. "Of course," he said, stepping forward and quickly checking over my vitals. "Well, your pupils aren't dilated, and you don't seem to be in any pain. How are you feeling?"

"Just a headache," I replied.

"Understandable," he said. "I'll be back in a few minutes with some pain medication for you, but I see you're in good hands for now," he went on, signing my chart before stepping out of the room and leaving me alone with Tommy.

I turned over and looked at Tommy. "What happened? You and Ian were fighting..."

Tommy nodded. "It was awful, Murphy, really. We were yelling insults, like guys do, and then suddenly you ran in between us. I tried to shove you out of the way, but before I could, Ian suddenly got this crazy look on his face and..."

I blinked. "And... What?"

"He hit you, Murphy," Tommy said, shaking his head. "It was so awful to watch... And then I called 9-1-1, and Ian kept screaming that he was sorry..."

"Did the cops take him?"

"No, no, I pulled some strings," Tommy said, rubbing my shoulder, and I found I was trying not to wince in pain again. "Explained that it was just a stupid fight between me and Ian and then you tried to break it up, got caught in the middle. I said that the punch was meant for me, and my buddies all believed me."

"Are they here?" I asked. "Any of them?"

"Yeah, but don't worry," Tommy said quickly. "I told them I was your fiancée and that you didn't want to see any of them. They'll probably let them know."

I blinked. "Wait... You actually said all that?"

"Of course I did—I need to keep you safe from all of them," Tommy replied, yanking me into his arms and holding me. "Now that we've set a wedding date, maybe I can pull some more stings and track down Nicholas. Then he can sign the divorce papers, and all of this nonsense can be put behind us."

"Nonsense?" I asked then, feeling like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Yeah, Murphy," Tommy said, pulling back. "I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I think I should take a transfer to Palm Springs. You can spend your time with my parents, and I'll be a cop, and then you'll be the perfect little housewife and we can start a family of our own."

I shook my head. "Tommy, you're not serious..."

"I'm dead serious," he replied, crushing my arms in his grip, and I whimpered in pain. "You don't cross me, Murphy. You do what I say. We've been over this."

I jerked my head in a nodding movement, never feeling more like someone's puppet in my entire life than I did then. "Y-yeah, of course," I said, hating myself for stammering, and showing more weakness than I'd ever done in my life. "Whatever you want, Tommy..."

Tommy smiled. "And if I get whatever I want," he continued, his fingers tracing many of the bruises which dotted the surface of my skin, "things like this won't have to happen." His eyes flicked upwards to mine. "Do we understand each other, Murphy?"

I jerked my head again, nodding. "We understand each other, Tommy..."

He grinned. "Good," he replied, pulling me back into his arms. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it, Murphy? Marriage is about compromise and sacrifices, as well as making your husband as happy as you can. I know you want to make me happy..." When I didn't answer, he yanked me back from him then, narrowing his eyes. "Say it," he very nearly growled.

I lowered my eyes. "I want to make you happy, Tommy..."

Violently, he shook me. "Look at me when you're talking to me!" he said through his teeth, quickly losing his temper.

Quickly, I rose my eyes to his. "I want to make you happy, Tommy," I said quietly.

Tommy smiled then, smoothing my arms, thinking that that would assuage the constant pain he caused me, before pulling me gently back into his arms. "That's a good girl, my little Murphy, cooperating with your man," he said gently to me, as one would a child. "And the sooner you understand that, the better."