Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"It doesn't have to be now," the doctor inserted. "She can survive on dialysis."

"But she won't be a cop anymore," Reed said flatly.

The doctor shook his head. "Not a homicide detective anyway. Maybe a desk job."

Reed swallowed. It's what I am , she'd said. "I think she'd rather die."

The doctor patted Reed's shoulder. "Don't do anything drastic right now."

The doctor left and Reed pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I wish I'd shot the bastard when I had the chance. I was trying to save her mother, goddammit."

"And now she won't even be tested," Ethan murmured.

"She's a bitter woman," Dana said quietly. "But Mia wouldn't have wanted you to do anything differently, Reed. I'll get in touch with Kelsey. She'll donate. She loves Mia." She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry about the fiance thing. I figured you'd want to be able to see her and they wouldn't let you otherwise." Her lips curved, but her eyes were devastated. "It worked in the movies."

Reed huffed a tired, mirthless chuckle. "Congratulations on the baby. Mia told me." As they'd sat on stakeout last night, waiting for Kates to appear.

Dana's eyes filled then. "She has to get better. She's going to be the godmother."

"She told me that. too. She can't wait."

Dana blinked the tears away. "Hormones," she muttered. "I have to go home for a little while to get things set up with the woman who's watching our kids. I'll be back later when Mia's awake. Don't let anyone tell her about this until I get back, okay?"

Reed felt like crying himself, but he nodded. "Okay. For now we just tell the others that she's out of surgery. And we wait."

She took his hands as she'd done the day they'd met. "And we pray."

Tuesday, December 5, 7:25 a.m.

"How is she?" Dana murmured. Reed started to get up, but she pushed him back into the chair at Mia's bedside in ICU.

What seemed like a hundred tubes ran from her body and her face was as white as the sheets.

"The same." She hadn't stirred since they'd wheeled her from recovery. "The doctor says some of her not waking up may be exhaustion from the last week and from coming back to work too early after the last injury."

Dana brushed at the hair on Mia's forehead lovingly. "Our girl has a hard head. Can't tell her anything."

The bullet would have bounced off your damn hard head , Jack had said. Sometimes I wish you weren't bulletproof . And she wasn't. "The last thing she said was that I should have let her keep her dogtags. I'm not a superstitious man, but I'm wondering if she was right"

"Remind me to smack you," Dana said mildly. "The dog-tags needed to go and I'm grateful you convinced her of that. Reed, she's a cop. She put herself in dangerous positions every day. Superstition has nothing to do with this. Have you had any rest?"

"Some." Dana's eyes were serene. Calming. "Why will her mother not be tested?"

"Annabelle always blamed her daughters for everything. If they'd been sons, life would have been different, she thought. If they'd been sons, Bobby Mitchell would have found another reason to be abusive. It was who he was. Kelsey and Mia paid the price."

"Does she love her mother?"

Dana lifted a shoulder. "I think she feels obligated. You're trying to find some sense in a senseless thing. That if she loved her mother despite everything, that your actions would be somehow more justified. That's not how it works."

"You sound like a shrink," he muttered and she laughed softly.

"Go get some sleep, Reed. I'll sit with her and I'll call you as soon as she wakes up. I promise." She waited until he'd heaved himself to his feet before handing him a bag from the bookstore. "I found this in my living room. She brought a book to Jeremy on Sunday and left this behind. It's for you." One side of her mouth lifted. "It wasn't her normal reading material so I peeked inside. Make sure you read the note."

He waited until he was back in his hotel room, alone for the first time since… since Saturday night, he realized. When he sat in his living room and realized she made him happy. She'd wake up. She had to. He couldn't believe anything else.

He drew the book from the bag and frowned. It was poetry. Hard-assed, sarcastic verse by a guy named Bukowski. It was titled Love Is a Dog from Hell . He drew a breath and opened to the note she'd penned. Like everything else, Mia's handwriting was open, sprawling and messy.

It's not my heart. More like my spleen. But my own words are awkward and this guy says what I feel. Maybe I like poetry after all.

Not her heart? Oh . He closed his eyes, remembering. The night she'd seen the ring around his neck. He'd been reading Christine's book of poetry. When he woke, it was on his nightstand. Mia must have read Christine's inscription. Now Christine's book filled with lyrical beauty was gone and in his hands he held a new book of raw, passionate, sometimes angry words. But the sentiment touched him deep and as he sat reading the book she'd chosen, he finally let the tears he'd held back for days fall.

She'd be okay. Mia was too hardheaded to accept any other outcome. So am I .

Monday, December 11, 3:55 p.m.

A nurse stuck her head in the room. "You have a visitor, Detective."

Mia wanted to groan. Her head hurt. She'd had a steady stream of visitors since being moved into her own room. She could have told the nurses to make them stop, but every person was someone she loved. And someone who loved her. A headache was a small price to pay. "Sure, send him in." Jeremy peeked around the corner and Mia smiled. "Hey, kid."

"Hey." He approached the bed. "You look better."

"I feel better." She patted the mattress. "How's school?" He gingerly climbed up beside her. "My teacher made a mistake today."

"She did? Tell me."

And he did, telling her about his teacher's mispronunciation of some Babylonian king Mia had never heard of, speaking very gravely as Mia had learned was his way. As he talked, the headache eased and she put the worry over the states of her body and her career from her mind. This child was safe. She'd done something important.

Now she wanted Jeremy to be more than safe. Occasionally he smiled and once in the last week he even laughed.

He seemed content at Dana's, but somehow that wasn't enough. She wanted him to be happy, not just content.

He finished his tale and after a long pause and careful study of her face said, "You made a mistake that day." He frowned. "Actually, you lied."

Which day didn't need to be specified. "I did?"

He nodded. "You told Kates I never said a word about him. You lied."

"Hmm." So the teacher story was merely a clever segue. "I suppose I did. Would you have preferred I told the truth?"

He shook his head. "No." He bit his lip. "My mom lied, too."

Ahh. "You mean when she said she hndn't seen him? She was protecting you."

"So were you." He straightened abruptly. "I want to live with you."

She blinked. Opened her mouth. Denials and reasons why not sprung to her mind, but none would pass through her lips. There was only one answer she could give this child who'd been through so much. "Okay." And she'd find a way to make it happen if she had to move heaven and earth. "But I have to warn you, I'm a bad cook."

"It's okay." He snuggled down beside her, the remote in his hand. "I've been watching cooking shows. It doesn't look too hard. I think I can cook for us."

She laughed and kissed the top of his head. "Good."

Monday, December 11, 5:15 p.m.

Dana had come for Jeremy and Mia was again alone. She had much to ponder. She'd gained a cat and a boyfriend and a kid. And she'd lost a kidney and a career, all in two weeks time. Kates was dead, by Reed's hand. Jeremy was alive. And so was her mother. She'd have sacrificed nearly anything to save Jeremy, but the saving of her mother had sacrificed her career and that seemed a high price to pay.