Though every inch of his body ached, Tony couldn't regret the pain. For too long he had felt only vague intimations of consciousness, and the pain felt solid and real. He had no idea about the length of his stupor – minutes, hours, days? Still, he remembered the hushed conversations of his friends and family.

Tony had listened for the name that mattered most in all of the conversation: Marissa. For whom had Tony risked his life, experienced so much pain? For Marissa. No, he hadn't "fallen in love" with her, or thrown himself wantonly away at any expense out of his devotion. He had, however, found himself completely unable to stand the thought of her coming to harm. Too such an extent, in fact, that he had run straight into the line of fire when he had seen that gun leveled at the back of her head. Tony told himself that he would have done the same for anyone, and perhaps he would have, but it wouldn't have reached from the same depth of desperation.

When he had sat at the back table of Jerome's, when he had heard the conviction of beauty and goodness in Marissa's voice, Tony had felt as if a part of him awakened, a part that his father had buried with Gemma Gargano. The judicious professor had never allowed Tony to resurrect that portion of himself, but it waited there, a seed of optimism that only wanted exposure to sunlight to begin to grow.

Marissa had provided the sun.

No, at the moment, Tony had not fallen irrevocably into the pull of Marissa's solar gravity, but he had begun to sense the pull, and he had no desire to wrench himself away.

He could not tell, though, if he had successfully prevented the light from being snuffed out.

For a moment, Tony merely breathed, trying to infuse his ragged form with strength to stir. When he found it, he pressed himself up sideways into a semi-reclining position. "How long has it been?" he ventured into the room, unsure of who occupied it with him.

From a nearby corner came Mario's voice, a voice laden with exhaustion, but laced with joy. "You're awake!" he almost shouted.

"Apparently," Tony smiled, and Mario rushed over to the bedside with more enthusiasm than his usual custom. To his credit, Mario did not try to hug his brother, though his face wore all the affection an older brother could feel for a younger.

"It has been," Mario adopted his more usual calm demeanor, "exactly four days and two hours since you were admitted to the hospital."

Tony shook his head. Could have been worse, he supposed, but he didn't like the idea of losing four days of his life.

"And we're lucky that's all it was," Mario took on a chastening tone. "With the amount of blood you lost, no one knew for sure that you would turn out okay, though I said you were never okay to begin with. Still, the doctor said that the bullet missed all the important parts, so once you were stabilized from the blood issue, you were fine."

"Fine enough to stay out for four days?"

"Doctor's choice," Mario explained. "If you had moved much the first couple of days, you would have reopened the wound and started the bleeding again. Stay here," he offered abruptly. "I need to get our father."

Before Tony could protest, Mario had lunged through the door, and Tony found himself alone with his thoughts too soon. He realized that he hadn't even considered Jerome’s fate. By this time, Jerome had either taken office or McReynolds had found a way to weasel in despite the damning testimony.

Tony hated to realize as he sat there that the same disease of mind that drew him to Marissa had drawn him to Jerome as well, though Marissa had the added benefit of a very pretty face and beautiful, lash-framed eyes. Even as he thought the comparison, Tony laughed at himself. His disease, though, grew from an attraction to the romantic and the naïve. Ironic, Tony knew, since he had always considered himself the pragmatist of the family. His family, so lost in theoretical academia that they didn't feel the need to leave their dwelling of books. But they would have laughed at Tony's idealistic vision. A romantic vision, he realized, where people judged each other on internal merit, not superficial difference. A vision where a girl's stories could reach inside and change a man's heart for the better.

I am a fool, he realized as the danger of the idea struck him. Paulo Gargano had suffered immensely for his romantic idealism, to the extent that Paul Garner had lived as a hermit for over twenty years. To his horror, Tony recognized that he himself had begun down the same path.

"Tony," came the voice of Paul Garner as if in answer to his son's thoughts.

"Pop!" Tony smiled despite himself. Somehow, he had missed his father during his fit of unconsciousness.

"I imagine you can guess how good it is to see you with your eyes open." The professor offered an uncharacteristically enthusiastic grin.

"It's good to have my eyes open," Tony agreed. His back had begun to ache when he lifted himself up again to look at his father. "Could I get some extra pillows?" he requested.

The professor glanced at Mario, and the elder brother stepped the step out the door to find a nurse.

"Pop," Tony delved directly into serious matter. "About Jerome..."

"You mean our newest city councilman?" the professor interrupted with another smile. "A resounding victory. Basically uncontested, because after everything that happened with the paper and the rally, McReynolds couldn't show his face. Apparently, Angus Moran has fled town, and the police found all sorts of interesting information at Calloway's. The man who shot you ran straight to Calloway's, and the police were able to search the premises without a warrant for the first time. Moran and McReynolds were indeed quite involved in each other's business."

Tony couldn't restrain a smile, but the news didn't fully alleviate his anxiety. "So, Jerome is fine?" he asked, though the professor had already answered the question.

"Fine."

"And no one else was hurt besides me?" Tony continued, though why he couldn't make himself ask outright about Marissa, he did not know.

When his father's visage clouded, Tony felt a bit nauseous.

"Physically, yes," the professor nodded, and Tony could breathe again. "Marissa suffered a bump on the head, but just needed a few hours of rest and recuperation in the hospital before she was off again. "Other than that, the only casualty was the McReynolds campaign." With his second statement, the professor regained his pleasant demeanor, and when Mario came in with pillows, Professor Garner turned to his older son with a smile.

"Our patient seems on the full road to recovery," Paul Garner intoned.

"Well, he needs to be," Mario insisted. "If he doesn't get out of this room soon and go see Jerome, Jerome is going to bring his entire security brigade into this hospital room, and I'm not sure the other patients would appreciate the noise."

"Please," Tony agreed. "As soon as they'll let me out."

Mario nodded. "Well, I just talked to the doctor, and he said that now that there is no more danger of serious bleeding, you might as well rest and recuperate at home."

Even with his lingering questions, Tony's heart warmed at the idea. He had awakened less than half an hour before, and to find himself able to go home so soon? It seemed too wonderful.

"And Jerome's visit won't be too much for me?" he fished. Tony wanted to see a few people, and he hated the idea of trading a hospital room for a cubicle room in his father's little house.

"Apparently not. You'll even be able to get up and walk around. In a couple of days, you'll be out and about. The doctor says that your pain will restrict you more than your injury."

To Tony, the news came as more good news in an hour of excellent revelations.

"Well, I don't want to go stir crazy. I'm not usually stuck in a house or a library, so I would love to have visitors."

The professor stood to his feet. "Well, we already know that Jerome is going to come, which will likely include Leonard and Doris. Then, of course, Barbara, and her father wants to come meet you. He was very impressed, both with your work on Jerome's campaign and with your bravery."

"If we work quickly enough," Mario turned to their father, "he can sleep in his own bed tonight."

For a moment, Tony rubbed his faced, disgusted by his cowardice in not asking about Marissa. Finally, he caved to his burning curiosity.

"And I guess Marissa will come with Barbara?" he queried, unable to completely mask his sense of urgency.

At the professor's exchanged look with Mario, a sense of foreboding seized Tony. She had lived, but what had happened to her? Something Tony wouldn't like, but he couldn't imagine.

"Maybe," Mario offered dubiously.

Tony could stand it no longer. "Look, tell me what's going on! Pop, you said Marissa left here a couple of hours after she got here. Either she did or didn't. Is she okay, or not? I got shot for her; the least you can do is tell me where she is."

"That's the problem," the professor allowed through clenched teeth. "We don't know where she is."

"No one knows where she is?"

"As soon as she left here, she had her things shipped to her parents' house. The doctor told her she couldn't travel for a week due to her head trauma, but we don't know for certain what she did. She might have ignored the doctor and headed home after her things, or she may have just left the bookstore but stayed in town."

"And no one has been able to find her?" Tony asked, and the expressions on his father's and brother's face let him know that he had let the anger leak into his voice. How could they let her go for four days without finding her? After Tony had risked his life to save her, they just let her go?

"We've looked everywhere for her, but we don't have any clues, so there are too many possibilities."

"Didn't anyone stay with her in the hospital?"

Both Mario and the professor guiltily studied the floor. "Well, we thought you were going to die," Mario explained. "It's not that we didn't care about her, it's just that she seemed okay, and the doctor had given her something to help her sleep."

Tony couldn't really blame them, he knew, but he couldn't believe he had lost her. He hadn't even had her, and he had lost her.

"Well, if the doctor told her a week, then that gives me three days to find her," Tony asserted, his determination palpable.

***************

Mario had barely managed to convince his brother to rest for the evening after his release from the hospital. With Marissa alone and unprotected, Tony seemed a man on a mission, more single-minded than Mario had ever seen his brother before. Still, making himself sick wouldn't help Marissa. Tony's obsession, though, gave Mario a new determination. If Mario could find Marissa before the morning, Tony could relax and recover. Only one person Mario knew could match Tony for determination, so Mario headed immediately to the Crenshaw residence. Between Mr. Crenshaw's resources and Barbara's determination, no duo would provide Mario with such a high likelihood of success.

From outside, Mario could make out several figures in Marshall Crenshaw's office. Barbara sat in a chair near a cozy fire – no doubt on Mr. Crenshaw's orders. Standing near the chair, Mario felt a marked shock to see Jerome Weathers. With Councilman Weathers stood Leonard Lafitte and his fiancée, Doris, and most surprising of all, huddling pathetically near the door, stood Sam Lincoln. As Ross showed Mario into the foyer, Mario could hear part of the conversation through the open door, and it provided no alleviation for his ever-growing incredulity.

"You're lucky," Jerome was chastising the cowering younger man, "that no one has brought you up on charges of aiding and abetting a criminal. I believe, though, that your cooperation will give the police reason enough for forbearance."

"I'm most interested," interrupted Barbara, "in what you said about Marissa when we found you that day. You know she's missing."

"I don't know anything about that," Sam whined peevishly. "When she left me, she was fine."

"When she left you, she got shot!" Barbara spat, obviously not as forgiving as the police.

"That's not my fault! I told her they were going to shoot Jerome. If she got some heroic idea to go save him, that's her stupidity."

"So, we were right," Mario interjected, only realizing afterward that Ross had yet to announce him.

When every eye in the room turned to Mario, he came as close to blushing as he ever had. "Barbara and I," he explained, "had conjectured that Marissa went to warn Mr. Weathers. Sam seems under the same impression."

"I'm telling you," Sam agreed, and the attention returned to the not-so-penitent political hack, "that she had decided to leave until she found out about the Morans' plans for Jerome. I have never met anyone as stupidly idealistic as that girl, and if anyone would have run into a bad situation over something so foolish, Marissa would have."

Barbara stood to her feet, but Mr. Weathers laid a calming hand on her. "In this case, I agree with him," Jerome nodded. "I wish she had acted more wisely."

"If she had acted more wisely," Mario countered, "you would be dead."

"Possibly," he agreed. "And your brother would not have been shot."

"My brother knew exactly what he was doing, and I'm sure he would do it again if necessary."

Sam's unexpected scoff shut everyone up. "You guys all sound the same!" he exclaimed with obvious disgust. "'Who's going to die for whom'? Good riddance, I say. If you guys all die being noble, then I can get back to work with more practical people. I should never have paid attention to that girl, and I don't know why I did. Opposites attract, I guess. Stupid and smart."

Or good and evil, Mario didn't reply. Sam could just keep digging his own grave with his words an apt shovel. Perhaps Jerome would rethink pressing charges if Sam kept talking.

"Well, Marshall, I think we have everything we need for now."

Mr. Crenshaw nodded. "I would agree. Ross, would you see Mr. Lincoln out back for his meeting with the detective? Detective Wallace will see you home, Mr. Lincoln. We'll let you know when we need more information."

Despite having missed much of the meeting, Mario felt enthusiastic about what he had heard. Marissa had, as Mario suspected, gone to warn Jerome.

"So, she just ran away," Barbara whispered suddenly beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" he replied.

"Marissa decided to run away because she thinks she caused all this. I mean, the paper, the shooting, even Tony's interference."

Though Mario wanted to disagree, he couldn't. Barbara's thoughts aligned too closely with his own - Marissa ran away out of guilt. That being the case, though, surely she wouldn't disregard the doctor's orders. Guilt might press her into unwise thinking, but not to the point of self-injury. As dramatic as she tended, she was more bluster than substance when it came to true despondence.

"Right," Mario whispered back. "I had thought the same thing, but what do we do?"

"Well," Jerome materialized beside the pair and spoke in a full voice. "First of all, it means that you two have taken enough into your own hands without input by others. I have resources that you two don't, as does your father, Miss Crenshaw. You might utilize your advantages. Second of all, it means that she is likely still in town. I have several friends and constituents who work at the railroad, and they will, at least, be able to inform us if she tries to leave town. In the meantime, all of us can look for her in our own ways. It seems I owe her a debt."

"And I owe her a recompense," Marshall Crenshaw purported.

Barbara furrowed her brow, more in embarrassment than disagreement. Though he hadn't stated it explicitly, his comment could only apply to herself and the trouble she had stirred up."

Though Mario, too, felt a twinge of shame, he couldn't hide his relief at the idea of having someone else take the lead in serious matters. He had taken entirely too much upon himself, and once he felt the burden removed, he realized how heavily it had weighed upon him. Of course, he tried not to show how completely he felt the release lest he appear to disadvantage to Barbara. He smiled at himself, but then turned to Mr. Weathers.

"I look forward to having your help," Mario admitted. "Barbara and I were at a bit of an impasse on how to proceed."

"You, Mr. Garner, also deserve a bit of recognition. You have carried on quite remarkably for someone whose brother was shot. Some would have blamed the girl he saved."

"Well, first of all, my brother is fine, resting at home and irritated to be out of the loop. And secondly, Tony is a grown up, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Blaming Marissa would be completely illogical."

"Spoken like a true Garner," Barbara laughed. "Except that strange and out of place Tony. Not sure how he came out of the same bloodline as you." She placed a small kiss on Mario's cheek, and when her father raised his eyebrows at her, she glared at him as if to dare him to protest. When Marshall Crenshaw offered only a smile, Mario relaxed, and Jerome let out a chuckle.

"Yes, spoken like a true Garner, and that is a compliment. I have an idea of how I can pay my debt to Marissa, but I might need your father's help," Jerome informed Mario. "Is he of a similarly magnanimous mind as you regarding Miss Erinson?"

"He seems to be, and if he's not, I can give him a talking to, because he should be."

Jerome Weathers chuckled again.

"Well, we will find her before she leaves, and when we do, maybe we can convince her to stay for a while longer."

As the group dispersed into the night, Mario and Barbara sighed a collective sigh of relief. Perhaps they should have involved some cooler heads from the beginning, but they could not change what had gone on before. Maybe, though, if they could find Marissa now, they could offer some recompense for their past offenses and help Marissa find the future she had come for in St. Louis. Mario and Barbara walked arm in arm toward the professor's office. They would not sleep much through the night, but for the first time in weeks they felt peace about the morning.