"Tell me you're joking."

I was leaning against the brick wall, opposite Lip, the cigarette now in my hand, and, slowly, raised my eyes to his.

"Fuck," Lip whispered, his eyes tortured as he fully absorbed all I'd been through over the past year and nine months. "Really?"

I sighed, slowly bringing the cigarette back to my lips. "No reason to joke about it," I said, my tone bitter, inhaling deeply. "I'm sick, but I'm not that sick."

"Please tell me he doesn't withhold your medication. Tell me that, at least."

I shook my head. "No, he doesn't withhold my medication."

Lip blinked. "He doesn't?" he asked, surprised.

I scoffed. "It still turns me into a zombie some of the time," I muttered, shrugging my shoulders as I handed the cigarette back to him. "It's much easier fucking a zombie. My feelings don't shut off completely, but I'm able to ignore it. And he doesn't take too long either if I don't struggle. I guess a part of him gets off on it."

"So me, Fiona, and the cops are the only people who know about this?"

"Yeah," I said quietly.

"Why haven't you told Ian?"

I raised my eyes back to Lip's. "You know as well as I do what went down on Thanksgiving when he thought he had all the answers," I said.

Lip made a face. "He did have all the answers, Murph."

I dragged my hand through my hair. "Doesn't matter if he had them or not. It was still assault, and even though the son of a bitch deserved it, I don't want my brother going to jail. I don't want any of you going to jail. This is an active investigation into getting rid of Tommy, but I won't have you all pulling vigilante justice. I don't know if I have the energy to represent all of you in court, even though I think I could put a spin on self-defense of a third person..."

Lip looked curious then as he took back the cigarette. "You think they'd actually let you represent us?"

I shrugged. "I don't fucking know anything anymore..."

"How bad is it?" Lip asked, his tone serious again.

I shook my head. "Lip, I don't think you want to know..."

"Don't tell me what I want to know," he snapped back, his tone still full of worry. "Come on. I think I know what I can handle."

I rolled my shoulders. "I already told you that he's been fucking raping me. I don't know how much worse it can get than that..."

"Well, we know you went to the hospital after Thanksgiving," he said, "after lying through his teeth that Ian bashed your head in."

"Oh, yeah, there's that," I muttered bitterly.

"Any other hospital visits?"

"Two."

Lip raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

I sighed. "Yeah, two..."

Lip dragged his hand through his hair. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me right now..."

I shook my head at him. "I'm not kidding. Twice after that. Once after Christmas and then again on Valentine's Day."

"Why'd he do it?" Lip demanded.

"First time was because I fucked someone else. The second time was because I refused to get my tattoo removed."

Lip looked shocked. "You fucked someone else?"

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah."

"Wait," Lip said, shaking his head, handing me back the cigarette, "you're not kidding here. I mean, who was it?"

I scoffed then, rolling my eyes as I inhaled deeply. "Nicholas," I muttered.

"Nicholas ran off," Lip said, looking confused as well. "How could you fuck him if he's been fucking gone? Did Tommy take offense to you being married to him or something?"

I muttered something unintelligible under my breath, inhaling again on the cigarette before I handed it back to him. "Mason, my contact in the police who's been handling all this shit with Tommy, arranged a meeting."

"So you could fuck?"

I reached out and punched Lip in the shoulder. "No, not so we could fuck!" I said, and Lip had the nerve to laugh aloud. "So that I could get the divorce papers signed..."

"A bargaining chip with you and Tommy?" Lip guessed.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "Now, of course, if I don't get my fucking tattoo removed or sign my half of the papers, Tommy will probably kill me, so that's something to look forward to..."

"And Mason's not going to pull you out of this? Even after two hospital stays?"

I shook my head. "No, he's not pulling me out."

"Jesus," Lip said. "And I thought you were crazy..."

"I'm the crazy one here," I replied as Lip finished the cigarette.

"Yeah?" he asked. "How?"

"Because I told him not to pull me out," I replied.

Lip looked as if I was as crazy as I said I was. "Wait. No. You didn't..."

I sighed. "I did, and I am. I will."

Lip dropped the cigarette then, stepping on it with his shoe as he dragged his hand over his mouth in a moment of clarity. "Fuck, Murph. What the fuck are you thinking?"

I lifted my hands out then as I shrugged, dropping them dramatically down then. "Clearly, I'm not, according to Mason. He thinks Tommy's going to kill me. And why wouldn't he? I'm disobeying him at every turn, and the son of a bitch fucking gets off on that whole master/slave relationship..."

"So, you admit you're a slave?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that," I say. "I mean, the only freedom I get is one AA meeting a week—away from you; my job at the diner; and taking my medication. Tommy has me cooking and cleaning the place, and I have to fuck him whenever he wants. And if I even try to form my own opinion or disobey him in any way, the son of a bitch beats the shit out of me and thinks it's okay..."

"You said he wanted you to get your tattoo removed..."

I sighed. "Yeah, he did say that..."

"Which one?"

I bit my lip. "Probably both of them," I said at last. "I mean, he slashed my left wrist—the one that has all our names on it—and he takes great care to beat me really well over my chest. But it's this one," I said, waving my hand over my chest, "that Tommy especially seems to have a problem with."

"And that got you sent to the hospital? When you said you wouldn't get it removed?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"How'd he spin that one?"

"Said I was mugged," I replied, "and I corroborated the story to Mason. I can't stop this now, Lip, any of it. I have to save Nicholas. I've got to."

"Why would you even want to?" Lip asked, not rudely. "I mean, let's face it, he did leave you to save his own ass..."

"Because I told him to leave."

"He hit you before he left—"

"Because I told him to hit me."

"Okay, then tell me this," Lip said. "Did he even show any kind of emotion after you guys fucked? Well, did he?"

I shook my head. "No. No, he didn't..."

"So, do you even think he'll want you back, after all this?"

I shook my head again. "No. There's no way he'll want me back."

"Then why?" Lip wanted to know, and I slowly raised my eyes to his. "Why would you put yourself through all this bullshit, Murph? Why would you risk life and limb to save your soon-to-be-ex-husband, if there's nothing in it for you?"

"My kids need their father, Lip."

"But what about you, Murph?" he asked, putting his hand on my arm and, for the first time in a long time, I didn't pull away from affection. "What do you need?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Peace of mind?"

"Is it all worth it, though?" he asked.

I sighed. "Who the fuck knows?" I whispered. "All I know is, I made a promise, and I need to see this through to the end."

"Made a promise to who? To Mason? The fuck does it matter if you keep a promise to him, Murph? He shouldn't ultimately matter..."

"I made a promise to Nicholas," I said quietly, "before he left. I said I would find a way to figure out what fucked thing happened to make his old record come to light. I promised him that I would do this, and I owe it to him to keep it."

"Why do you owe anything to someone who clearly doesn't give a shit?"

"Because I give a shit," I said. "He saved my life more times than I can count, and now that I have the opportunity to return the favor, I owe it to him to see it through to the end."

"Even if you end up dead?"

I nodded. "Even if I end up dead."

Lip sighed, pulling me into his arms. "Well, I won't say anything," he said, and he tensed up then, fully realizing for the first time how thin I'd become. "But just so you know, Murph, if Tommy does kill you, I'm not going to your funeral."

"Yeah?" I asked, laughing at the joke. "Why not?"

"Because," he replied, "I'd be in fucking prison facing twenty to life."

"They have compassionate releases for a death of a family member..."

Lip laughed. "I doubt they'd let me out, Murph. If we still had the death penalty in this state, and if I fucking killed Tommy, my number would be up..."

I pulled back. "Once they see the tapes in court of all the shit Tommy's pulled, trust me, Lip, the jury could be swayed to see reason..."

Lip shrugged. "All I know is, if it comes out that he fucking killed you, or that you have to go to the hospital again, his days are numbered..."

I shook my head. "Don't say that, Lip."

"Why not?" he asked. "Tommy would deserve it, and you know it."

I sighed. "I know," I replied, "but I still don't want you going to jail. Not for me."

. . .

"Iana's in a play," I said one night over dinner, while I merely picked at the smallest serving of salad imaginable on my plate, while Tommy heartily dug into his pork chop, which made me want to vomit.

"Which play?"

"Little Red Riding Hood," I replied.

"They're doing that at her school?"

I shook her head. "No, it's a community play."

"Who is she playing?" Tommy asked, his tone uncaring, as he stared at his cell phone to check the score of a game.

"Little Red," I replied.

"Hmmm," Tommy replied.

"So, I'd like to go..."

"When is it?" he asked, not looking up.

"It's a limited engagement," I replied. "It only plays this weekend. Once on Friday night, and twice on Saturday and once on Sunday."

"Go to the Sunday matinee then," Tommy said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm pulling a double on Saturday and Sunday. Have fun."

I felt relieved that I'd received permission to go, and spent the rest of the week making everything incredibly easy for Tommy, in the hopes that he wouldn't take it back. Finally, when the event came, I got dressed and hurried out of the house, relieved that Tommy wouldn't be there to make a comment about my outfit. I drove that afternoon to the theater, parking in the lot, and showing off my ticket to the ticket taker. Stepping inside, I spotted Ian, Lip, Debbie, and Liam in the front row, and realized that they'd probably gotten a sitter for Clayton and Fionn. I stepped forward, tentatively, wondering if Lip would pretend to be on everyone else's side while in public, unknowing of the outcome.

"Murph!" Lip said warmly, getting to his feet and pulling me into a hug.

"Just tell me now," I whispered quickly during our hug, "if you're going to shun me publicly and make me sit somewhere else..."

"I'm not," he assured me, pulling me back. "We saved you a seat."

I sighed, filled with relief as Lip sat beside Ian, and I took a seat on the other side of Lip. Ian, Debbie, and Liam all gave me cursory glances, but didn't attempt to get me into a conversation, and I wasn't surprised. Looking down at my program as I switched off my phone, I found myself smiling as Iana's name was proudly featured in the cast list. It was a short show—only about forty minutes—but there would be an intermission, for some reason. The show was due to begin in five minutes, and I kept my fingers crossed that none of my family members—save for Lip, who knew everything—would do anything to disrupt the day.

When the lights came down, the entire audience erupted into applause, which only intensified as Iana made her entrance, looking around the set of the woods around her. She confidently introduced herself, indicating her basket immediately thereafter, and informed us all that she was going to her grandmother's house with some food, as her grandmother was ill and likely needed a pick-me-up. I found myself smiling up at the stage, despite knowing I could no longer take full-credit for what my daughter was becoming, I still felt a sense of pride that she was there because of me, and she had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment.

I felt a pair of eyes on me then and, as I slowly turned, I spotted Ian, blocked only by Lip, who was watching Iana happily. I felt my eyes widening beneath his accusatory gaze, and my heart hammered in my chest at the implications he was presenting with one look. I did my best to look away from him, and attempted to force my eyes to return to my daughter, but it did no good. I was frozen, staring at my twin, and I could do nothing but continue the look. He looked offended, almost, as if he was wondering why I dared to show my face here, despite the notion that this was a public place and I was more than welcome.

Finally, I managed to force myself to look away from Ian, so as not to miss another moment of my daughter's play. I watched, transfixed, almost as if it was the first time I was hearing the story of Little Red Riding Hood, and laughed when it was appropriate to do so—like at the rather funny costume they'd managed to procure for the wolf. The intermission began just after Little Red had stopped picking flowers, and, as soon as the lights came up, I excused myself—via Lip—to use the ladies' room. Making my way quickly out of there, I managed to find the single-seater room and locked myself in. Breathing in and out as quickly as I dared, I remembered the last time I'd felt so anxious in such a place was my final Halloween with Nicholas, when I'd hidden a flask in my clutch purse, and Debbie had encouraged me to get rid of it.

I shook my head, wanting more than anything to splash some cold water on my face, but I didn't even dare to touch the taps of the water. I was shaking, my face flushed, as I hurried to adjust my wrap more accordingly, for I couldn't bear to see the bones showing through my skin. I bit my lower lip, nearly splitting it, and I finally did so, a trickle of blood filling my mouth. I dug through my purse then, finding a Kleenex, and dabbing at my lip, hating myself for allowing myself to come undone like this. I used the clean edge of the Kleenex to dab at my forehead before I threw the paper into the wastepaper basket and turned around, unlocking the door and was about to step back towards the theater, were it not for the person blocking my path.

"Hey, Ian," I said, the sigh escaping my mouth before I could call it back.

"What the hell, Murph?" Ian demanded, narrowing his eyes at me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you so suddenly all buddy-buddy with Lip?"

I crossed my arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do," he said. "Come on. Admit it. What happened?"

I shook my head at him, attempting to move past him. "I am not going to have this conversation with you, Ian."

"Why?" he demanded then, going after me. "You obviously had it with Lip!"

I ran my hand along my forehead as I attempted to figure out which way would ultimately lead me back to the theater. "We're not discussing this, Ian."

"Murph, come on," Ian said, reaching out then and grabbing my shoulder, and yanked me around to face him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot of shit," I hissed under my breath, "but nothing you need to know."

Ian shook his head at me. "I know you're in there somewhere, Murph."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Don't do this, Ian... Not here."

"No, you don't do this, Murph!" Ian nearly shouted then, growing exasperated and I knew then that, had the roles been reversed, I'd be acting the same way. "Come the fuck on! You used to tell me everything. Are you telling me those days are over?"

I looked at his desperately then. "Ian, don't..."

"Murph, you don't," he said, looking at me, filled with worry. "I need to know what the fuck's going on here. You're my sister—my fucking twin. What is it that you've told Lip—because you've obviously told him something—that you can't tell me?"

"Can't you just think for a moment that I'd tell you anything that you need to know—"

"And who's to say I don't need to know this, Murph?" he asked me then, reaching out, almost as if he was going to hug me, but stopped himself. "Who's to say? Why do you get to suddenly decide what I know and don't know?"

"Because this is about me," I said quietly.

"All the more reason for me to know."

I shook my head. "Not this. You don't need to know this."

"I don't need to know that Tommy's fucking beating you?!" he hissed through his teeth, and I looked away from him. "Fuck, Murph... Why don't you just tell me? Give me a straight answer for once in your life."

"I've given you plenty of straight answers!" I fire back, looking up at him. "I just can't give you a straight answer here! Please, don't make me..."

"Murph, I'm asking as your brother, your twin brother," Ian said desperately, "can you at least tell me why you can't fucking tell me this?"

"Because, I don't want you to go to fucking jail," I whispered then. And, a moment later, I felt a hand on my shoulder and, turning, I was shocked to see Lip standing there. "Hey," I said, trying to remain nonchalant.

"They're going to start again any minute," Lip said, forcing a smile on before turning to look over at Ian. "Everything okay out here?"

Ian shook his head. "Lip, tell me what you know..."

Lip sighed. "I can't do that, Ian."

"But, you do know something?" he asked.

Lip shook his head. "I can't tell you that either, Ian."

Ian turned and looked over at me. "Murph...please..."

I sighed, lowering my eyes. "I can't, Ian. I'm sorry."

"This is bullshit," Ian said, knocking into the both of us as he returned to the theater.

"You didn't tell him?" Lip asked.

I shook my head. "I can't. You know I can't."

"He'd help you. I know he would."

"By what?" I demanded, turning back to Lip. "By burying Tommy six feet under? That wouldn't help me, Lip, and you know it. We need Tommy alive."

Lip sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" I asked him. "Because any physical harm coming to Tommy would definitely not help this situation..."

"I'm talking about supporting you," Lip replied, and I shook my head at him, looking away. "I mean, let's face it, you two are the closest..."

I shrugged. "Whatever..."

Lip placed a hand on my shoulder. "He could help you through this, Murph. In ways that nobody else could."

I sighed. "I can't take his help," I replied, moving out from under his arm. "I can't depend on him like that, not now. I'm already expecting far too much from him as it is," I said, the dejection filling my tone as I moved to return back to the theater, Lip walking just a half a step behind me.

. . .

As I drove home early that evening, thoughts flowed through me of the events of that day, and how I knew that Lip was right—completely right. Ian could help me through this in a way that nobody else could, and that was exactly why I had to go it alone. If Ian knew one ounce of information—confirmed information—about what I'd been through these past twenty-two months I'd been apart from Nicholas, Tommy was likely to have a target on his forehead in seconds.

As I turned onto our street, I felt the anxiety return to me then as I saw that Tommy's car was parked outside the house. Pulling up behind it, I shut off my vehicle and hopped out, locking it up and standing there, in the middle of the street, for a moment. I turned and looked behind me then, seeing my former residence and knowing that I could do it. I could go over there and tell Ian everything that had been happening, and ask for his help. However, the thundering of my heart told me that, though I was filled with dread to be alone with Tommy more than ever, I'd made the choice to go it without him, and I had to keep going.

I trudged up to the house, opening up the gate and stepping through, taking doubly long to lock it behind me and make my way up the walk. As the stairs made no sound as I stepped on them, I sighed, knowing that I was small and weak—just how Tommy liked me—and that there was hardly any way that I could be a match for him. I swallowed then, fishing my house key front and center as I opened the door, knowing that whatever waited inside couldn't be good.

"Murphy." Tommy's voice jarred me completely, and I did my best to remain neutral as I got my wrap off and hung it over my arm, ready to take it upstairs.

"Hello, Tommy," I replied, slipping off my heels as I shut the front door, locking it behind me as I stepped into the living room. "Good shift?"

He shrugged. "Can't complain."

I did my best not to sigh aloud then, knowing full well that he had something on the tip of his tongue, ready to complain about. "Okay, Tommy," I said, setting my shoes on the stairs and hanging my wrap on the bannister as I calmly stepped towards him. "If there's something on your mind, then say it."

Tommy got to his feet then, immediately ready to beat me down for the umpteenth time, as he stepped closer. "We need to talk."

I nodded. "Okay, Tommy," I said, unmoving as he stepped closer, but all eyes and ears nonetheless—he stumbled slightly, leading me to believe that, as soon as he'd returned from his double shift, he'd begun hitting the bottle, hard. "What's on your mind?"

Tommy finally reached me then, grabbing ahold of my collar, and I groaned slightly as he yanked me towards him, knowing I should be entirely used to this treatment by now yet, despite everything, it always caught me by surprise, as Tommy was one to vary the tune a bit. "When were you going to tell me that Nicholas signed the divorce papers?"

I blinked then, shocked that I'd neglected to tell him such a thing yet, with everything that had been going on, I cursed myself for letting it slip my mind. "I'm sorry," I said, the fear ebbing through me then as I forced myself not to struggle to escape his grip. "I forgot to mention it, really. I'm sorry..."

Tommy shook his head. "You just want to keep me waiting..."

I vehemently shook my head then, vowing for my voice not to shake. "That's not true!" I cried out then. "I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, Tommy. Promise."

Tommy stared down at me then, his dark eyes swimming with a combination with anger and arousal, at how he literally held my life in his hands. "I don't believe you," he said, the stink of alcohol escaping from betwixt his lips and up into my nostrils.

I felt myself trembling inadvertently in his arms. "I promise. I just forgot. I wouldn't want to make you wait, Tommy..."

"You don't even love me," he growled.

I felt the bile rising in my throat then, but I choked it down. "Of course I love you—"

"Don't lie to me!" he screamed at me then. "I know what you feel for me, Murphy, and it isn't love, but that's just fine. I've got you right where I want you, and that'll suffice just fine. And besides, I always get what I want, in the end..."

"What you want?" I ask, hating myself for letting my voice tremble. "What do you mean you always get what you want?"

Unmercilessly, Tommy slammed me up against the wall, and my entire body shuddered in pain, for I didn't had any extra padding to cushion the blow. "I'm a cop, Murphy—above the law. I can do whatever I want, and get whatever I want, just because of my job. Doesn't matter who you are or what you do; I always get what I want."

I swallowed then, wondering if this was enough to get him. "Tommy, you don't mean that," I said, finding my voice again, from somewhere deep inside me. "You wouldn't seriously want to ruin people's lives—"

"Shut up!" he growled then, smacking me across the face with his free hand. "You don't know shit, Murphy, and you never will!" he yelled. "But you do need to be taught a lesson..."

"Tommy—!"

"However, if you'd be willing to sign your half of the divorce papers, we could move up the wedding date, and then we wouldn't have to have a punishment."

I shook my head. "No," I said, before I could call it back.

Tommy narrowed his eyes. "Murphy, you know very well what happened the last time you said 'no' to me. Think very carefully about the choice you're making."

"I don't need to think about it," I spat. "I'm not signing shit."

Tommy looked incensed then. "You don't want to say 'no' to me..."

"I just did," I snapped back. "Deal with it."

"Fine," Tommy said, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw him undoing his belt from around his waist then. "Then you deal with this," he said through his teeth, the sound of its buckle hitting the floor, sending me over the edge, "your punishment."

"No!" I screamed then, my hand curling into a fist, and hitting him as hard as I could in the face, causing him to double over and hit his head on the edge of the coffee table. "Tommy?!" I screamed aloud then, a trickle of blood oozing from his temple. "Shit..." I whispered, bending down, and seeing that he was out cold. "Mason," I hissed, looking around, unknowing where he'd put every camera, "send an ambulance! Send one! Please!"

I felt myself going numb then as the ambulance arrived, managing to stumble over a story about how Tommy had come home from his shift, gotten drunk, and wanted sex—which would explain his belt being off—and that he'd tripped and fell into the coffee table. I played the part of the worried fiancée perfectly, and rode along in the ambulance with him to the hospital. Almost as soon as we'd arrived, I was brought into the waiting room, still in my clothes from Iana's play, and just sat there, waiting, and staring at the white tiled floor...

"Murphy."

I looked up then, seeing Mason standing there, and launched to my feet, throwing my arms around him, and he patted me on the back. "You must've seen it—somebody must've seen it," I said, bursting back to look at his face, and covered my mouth when Mason motioned for me to keep my voice down. "Someone called..."

"I saw it," Mason assured me.

I sighed, forcing myself to nod, and it felt weird to move my neck. "What happens now?"

Mason looked uncomfortable then.

I searched his face. "Mason?"

He sighed. "Murphy, I'm so sorry."

I blinked. "Sorry? For what?"

"Look, Murphy, I'm just going to come right out and say it—we don't have enough information on what we're looking for to make an arrest."

I felt as if I was out to sea then, and that waves were crashing unmercilessly into me then, which somehow brought me back to life. "What?" I whispered.

"I'm sorry. At this point, we just have a suspicion, but he could easily clam up and weasel his way out of it. Unless with get a definitive confession, or some names attached to it, we can't make an arrest."

I shook my head. "You're kidding..."

Mason dragged a hand over his eyes. "I wish I was."

I breathed in then, knowing what my answer would be. "Okay."

Mason blinked. "Okay? What does that mean?"

I raised my eyes to his. "It means I'm still in this."

Mason shook his head. "Murphy, like I said last time, we can still get you out..."

I shook my head back at him. "I can't leave..."

"Because of your promise to Nicholas? Trust me, Murphy, we can get Tommy another way, I promise. Don't do this to yourself..."

"It's not just because of that," I replied.

"Then, what is it because of, Murphy?"

I raised my eyes to his. "It's because I'm in too deep as it is," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I know that I can do this—I can see it through to the end."

Mason sighed. "All right... What are you going to tell Tommy?"

"Same thing I told the doctors," I replied. "That he tried to fuck me and that he was too drunk and knocked himself into the table, causing bleeding an unconsciousness."

"Think he'll believe you?"

I shook my head. "I don't give a fuck if he believes me," I said quietly. "One way or the other, he'll eventually figure it out, and when he does, that fucking pussy will be running for the hills because of my ability to clock him so well."

Mason smirked. "You're sure confident about taking him down a peg, Murphy."

I smiled at him. "Confident?" I shrugged. "Well, if I'm being honest with you, Mason, on a good day, confidence is all I've got left." I dragged my hand over my face, getting to my feet and throwing away the disgusting hot beverage that was somehow acceptable for other people to consume, but not for me. "You bring any of your men along?"

"Yeah," Mason replied. "Why?"

"I need some air," I replied, "and I wouldn't want you to be left alone."

Mason smirked, getting to his feet. "I'll head out with you," he replied. "Air sounds soon."

I shrugged, turning around and walking out of the waiting room. "Suit yourself," I muttered, and headed outside, the cool night air filling my lungs then, and I felt a rare calm fall over me as I dug into my pockets and retrieved my pack of cigarettes. "Hey, don't judge," I said to Mason's raised eyebrows. "This job is exhausting, and pretending to be a guy who beats me every five seconds is not something I would wish on anyone, under any circumstances. This just helps me take the edge off..."

"I'm surprised you don't drink away your problems," Mason replied, watching me as I lit up a cigarette and put it into my mouth.

I shook my head, inhaling on the thing before taking it out of my mouth, blowing out the smoke after holding it in for a moment. "I'm an alcoholic. It's okay, you don't have to apologize," I said as Mason immediately looked uncomfortable. "My biological father has a pretty severe drinking problem, and so does my brother, Lip."

"The one that you have a complicated past with?"

My eyes snapped to Mason's. "How did you...?" I shook my head then, only half-surprised when a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Fucking Nicholas," I said, sticking my cigarette back into my mouth. "Least he didn't give a fuck about it..."

"You saying that some people did?"

"My ex, before Nicholas," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "You remember Josh? You and your partner interrogated him and arranged for me to watch. Son of a bitch tried to kill me for the first time that day..."

Mason nodded. "Slippery guy, Fairfax," he replied. "I know Nicholas was really torn up when Josh fabricated that bullshit about kidnapping Iana..."

I smirked. "Hey, it couldn't have been all bad for him," I replied. "I realized I couldn't live without him after that shit went down..."

"That's what got you to realize it?"

"Well, that, and the son of a bitch shot me. Lost a kidney, too, but got a transplant within a year, so now, if I need to, I can run again..."

"You're a runner, then?" Mason asked.

I turned and looked over at him, surprised that Nicholas didn't tell him this. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I ran when I first figured out who I was. I thought about running when I realized that I was pregnant with Iana... And then, I ran again, after the accident with Josh, after he ran over Nicholas, when he pushed me out of the way..."

"You shouldn't blame yourself for that, Murphy," Mason said gently. "Nicholas made the choice to put himself in harm's way."

I sighed. "I was running before that," I replied. "Instead of facing the truth that our relationship was in trouble, and that we fell for each other, I ran. I didn't even try to fix things, Mason. And now, I turned the tables, telling Nicholas to run..."

"Needing space isn't a bad thing..."

I scoffed. "I ran to another state, Mason. And when I found out who I was, I ran to fucking Mexico. Jesus, what the fuck gives me the right to just...?!" I broke off then, jamming the cigarette back into my mouth and dragging my hands roughly through my hair.

"Murphy, don't do this to yourself..."

"Do what?!" I demanded then, my voice shaking. "Hate myself for all the fucked shit that has happened since I moved back to South Side?!"

"Murphy..."

"Don't," I said, shaking my head at him. "Don't try to tell me that everything's going to be okay if I just keep my head up, because that's fucking bullshit. And you know why? Because I'm a fucked up person, Mason. I'm totally fucked up."

"I don't think you're fucked up, Murphy. I don't."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I am," I said. "I'm fucked up. I'm fucked up because I allowed myself to fuck my own brother before I figured out who I really was. I'm fucked up because I ran to a foreign country, got drunk, and fucked my twin brother's ex-boyfriend, got pregnant, and fucking kept the baby, because I am so fucking stubborn. I let myself stay in a relationship where I didn't love the person, but did it because I thought I owed it to him. I fell in love with someone, married them, and had their children, but then I pulled away from them after my arrest, because I was suddenly aware of how much of a better person they were than I am. And then there's this whole mess with Tommy, where I'm literally serving myself up to him, day and and day out, hoping that my husband's name can be cleared, but for what? Nicholas doesn't fucking give a shit about me anymore, Mason. I don't give a fuck what you say; you weren't there that night when we met up again... So close, and yet so far away. We shared something that only two people who care so goddamn much about one another can share, and then he broke it off like it didn't mean shit to him, which, therefore, means I don't mean shit to him. But it doesn't fucking matter, right? Sooner or later, Tommy's gonna fucking kill me anyway..."

"Don't say that," Mason said, stepping closer then, each step filled with purpose, yanking my cigarette from my mouth as he took my face into his hands, his touch gentle as he cradled it. "I don't ever want you fucking saying that again, Murphy. Do you hear me?"

My breath caught in my throat then as I stared up at him. "I hear you..."

Mason's thumbs made contact with my trail of tears then, wiping them effortlessly from my cheeks as he stared into my eyes. "I'm so sorry for getting you involved in this. I shouldn't have let you, or I should've shut it down a long time ago..."

I shook my head at him. "It's okay," I said softly. "I wanted to..."

Mason sighed. "If I would've had to run away, and if you were my wife, there's no way in hell I would've run without you..."

I bit down, hard, on my lower lip. "What about your wife?"

"She left me," Mason said quietly.

I blinked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't want to distract from the investigation..."

I nodded. "Sure."

Mason hesitated then, his strong hands still cupping my face, taking care of the new tears which somehow managed to escape my eyes, despite his comfort. "You don't know how badly I want to kiss you right now, Murphy..."

I gasped a little then. "What?"

He sighed, shutting his eyes then, and rested his forehead against mine and, oddly, the gesture didn't offend me. "I can't do it..."

"Mason," I said, shutting my own eyes.

"I wouldn't do it..."

"Mason," I tried again.

Slowly, he released me then, lowering his hands momentarily to my shoulders and squeezing them gently for a moment before he stepped away from me. "Nicholas would never forgive me, Murphy, because no matter what you say, I know my best friend. You love him, as much as he loves you, and he'd never forgive me for kissing his girl, no matter what I might want," he said, his eyes filled with sadness. "I'm going to head back inside now," he said, as I struggled to gather my scattered thoughts. "Better check on Tommy... See you in there," he said, not looking at me again as he returned into the hospital building.

I stood there for a moment, attempting to formulate a coherent thought then as I considered the last several moments that had transpired between Mason and me. The thought process, in this regard, was not one I was familiar with. Mason's wife had left him; he was into me, for some odd reason; but he wouldn't let himself give in to his desires...all because of Nicholas? I shook my head then, refusing to let myself believe it as I took my carton of cigarettes out of my pocket, my hands shaking slightly as I lit another one.

"Loyalty," I muttered to myself, inhaling the poison into my lungs, and shaking my head at the warning label on the box itself, informing me that this product could kill me. "Oh, the irony... I just hope I live long enough to see this through," I thought aloud then, doing my best to finish the cigarette quickly before I moved towards the doors then.

The decision was clear, and I knew it, and it wasn't even a choice for me to consider. I knew what I wanted, as I had done for years, and I wasn't about to vary the tune now. As I stood beside the entrance then, knowing that, somewhere in that hospital, were two men who wanted me in two very different ways, I felt no regrets. No; I felt no regrets for knowing exactly what I wanted, and even though it was neither of those men, the notion that I knew what I wanted, and who I wanted, was very important to me, and, no matter what, I refused to give up. Smiling to myself, I opened the doors to the hospital, ready to face the music.