Cody McFadyen - Shadow Man

Nod.

"I think you'll like her a lot. But if you don't want to be here, you just let me know, and we'll figure something else out."

She cocks her head at me. Seems to be weighing the truth of my words. She smiles and nods. I grin back at her. "Great."

I look in the rearview mirror. Keenan and Shantz are parked in front of the house, ever-present. They know that I'm leaving Bonnie here and that they'll be staying. This almost makes me feel safe about leaving her. Almost.

"Let's go, babe."

We get out of the car and go up to the house, ring the doorbell. After a moment, Alan answers. He looks better than he did on the plane, but still tired. "Hey, Smoky. Hey, Bonnie."

Bonnie looks up at him, examining him by staring straight into his eyes. He bears this with the gentle-giant patience that he personifies, until she gives him a smile that is her equivalent of a thumbs-up. He smiles back. "Come on in. Elaina's in the kitchen."

We enter, and Elaina's head pokes around a corner. Her eyes light up at the sight of me, and it squeezes my heart. This is Elaina. She glows with kindness.

"Smoky!" she cries, rushing toward me. I let myself be embraced by her, return the hug.

She steps back, holding me at arm's length, and we examine each other. Elaina is not as short as I am, but at five foot two she's a dwarf in comparison to Alan. She is incredibly beautiful. Not in a way that stuns you, like Callie; her beauty is a combination of the physical mixed with pure personality. She is one of those women whose depth and goodness texture her entire presence, making you yearn to be near her. Alan summed it up once in a single simple sentence: "She is Mom."

"Hey, Elaina," I say, smiling. "How are you?"

A brief twinge of something appears deep in her eyes, disappears. She kisses me on the cheek. "Much better now, Smoky. We've missed you."

"Me too," I say. "I mean, I've missed you guys."

She looks at me for one meaningful moment, nods. "Much better,"

she says. I know she means me. She turns to look at Bonnie and hunches down so they are face-to-face. "You must be Bonnie," she says. Bonnie looks at Elaina, and it is a moment suspended in time. Elaina just sits there, exuding love in her wordless, unconscious way. It's a force of nature all its own, a power people like Elaina have. Something made to beat down the barriers that pain can erect around the heart. Bonnie freezes. Her body shudders, and something undefined goes shivering across her face. It takes me a moment to place that something, and when I do, pain jolts through me like a lightning strike. It's suffering and yearning, deep and dark and soulful. Elaina's love is powerful. It is raw and elemental. It is not something to fuck with; it takes no prisoners. And it has cut into Bonnie like a knife made of sunlight, cut deep and exposed her hidden pain. All in an instant. Just like that. I watch Bonnie lose an internal battle, watch as her face crumples against her will, and watch as silent tears begin to pour down her cheeks. Elaina holds out her arms, and Bonnie rushes into them. Elaina gathers her up, hugs her close, strokes her hair, croons in that mixture of English and Spanish I remember so well.

I am dumbstruck. A lump fills my throat, demanding tears. I fight it back. I glance at Alan. He's fighting too. The reasons are the same for both of us. It's not just Bonnie's pain. It's Elaina's kindness, and Bonnie's instant understanding that Elaina's arms are a safe place to be if something hurts.

This is who she is. She is Mom.

The moment seems to hang forever.

Bonnie pulls away, wiping her face with her hands.

"Better now?" Elaina asks.

Bonnie looks at her and gives a tired smile in answer. It's not only her smile that's tired. She just wept out some part of her soul, and it exhausted her. Elaina strokes her cheek with one hand. "You sleepy, baby?"

Bonnie nods, her eyes blinking. I realize she is falling asleep on her feet. Elaina gathers her up in her arms without another word. Bonnie's head falls against her shoulder and, just like that, she's out. It was something magic. Elaina had sucked the pain out of her, and now she could sleep. I'd slept that night at the hospital too, after her visit. The first sleep I'd had in days.

It blindsides me as I see Bonnie there, asleep in her arms, trusting. I hate myself for the selfishness of it, but I can't help the fear. What if Bonnie got close to this wonderful woman and lost her too? I find that the thought of this possibility terrifies me, in the most Mom of ways. Elaina squints her eyes at me, smiles. "I'm not going anywhere, Smoky." Long on empathy as always. I feel ashamed. But she smiles again and sweeps my shame away. "I think we'll be fine here. You two can get to work."

"Thanks," I mumble, still fighting that lump in my throat.

"You want to thank me, you come for dinner tonight, Smoky." She comes over and touches my face, the side with scars. "Better," she says. Then, more firmly, "Definitely better."

She gives Alan a single kiss and walks off, trailing that elemental love and goodness behind her. Changing everything she touches just by being who she is.

Alan and I walk outside, stopping on his front porch for a moment. Moved and dazed and jittery.

Alan breaks the silence with actions, not words. Those catcher'smitt hands fly up to his face in a single, sudden, desperate motion. His tears are as silent as Bonnie's were, and just as agonizing to watch. The gentle giant shakes. I know they are tears of fear, more than anything else. I understand. Being married to Elaina, it must be like being married to the sun. He's afraid of losing her. Of being in darkness forever. I could tell him that life goes on, blah, blah, blah. But I know better.

So instead I put a hand on his shoulder and let him cry. I'm not Elaina. But I know he'll never let her see his worry and pain about her like this. I do my best. I know from experience that while it's not enough, it's far far better than nothing at all.

As quick as it came, the storm passes.

His eyes are already dry, which doesn't really surprise me. This is who we are, I think, sad.

As much as we might like to break, we're really only made to bend.

E VERYONE LOOKS WORNdown, with that rushed-to-get-ready look. Hair combed, but imperfectly. Shaves not as close as they could be. Everyone but Callie, of course. She's beautiful and impeccable.

"How's Bonnie?" she asks.

I shrug. "Hard to say. She seems okay for now. But . . ." I shrug again. No one says anything to this. She might be fine, she might never be fine . . . However you slice it, it comes up sucky. A loud ding-dong fills the air.

"What the hell is that?" I ask, startled.

"That means I have mail, honey-love. I have a program that checks it automatically every half hour and alerts me if something's there."

I look at Callie, perplexed. "Really?" This seems bizarre to me. I see tolerant looks on everyone's faces. I have a feeling that I am showing myself as being behind the times.

Callie walks over to the laptop on her desk, taps at the keyboard. She frowns, looks up at me. "I have psycho mail," she says. The feeling of lethargy that had been blanketing the room vanishes in a single electric jolt. We all crowd around her desk. The in-box listing of her e-mail is displayed, with the newest message on top. The subject is: A Message from Hell , the sender: You Know Who . Callie double-clicks to open the message full screen.

Greetings, Agent Thorne! And Agent Barrett as well-- I'm sure you are reading this together.

You are back at the nest now, I feel sure, plotting the pursuit. I must admit, I am becoming excited at the prospects of the days to come. The hunt is on, and I could not have asked for a better cast of foes.