"Put the knife down," Quincy ordered, his voice low, his aim unwavering. "You're not helping yourself."

Dennis chuckled bitterly. "Right. 'Let the girl go, and we'll be able to lessen your sentence.' I've heard it all, and I don't fall for lies. So, if you don't want our girl," he gestured to Beverly with his chin, "to lose her life, then I suggest you move your buddies out of my way and let us leave in piece. Wouldn't want the blood of an innocent girl on your hands, now would you?"

Quincy took a careful step forward, pausing when Dennis stiffened. "Beverly," she blinked at him, confused as to which version of him to look at. There were three, after all, and wow—when did Quincy turn so fuzzy? "Are you alright?"

She tried to answer, but only ended up coughing, trying in vain to lick the tangy liquid off her lips. Quincy snarled a curse in response, shoving his gun into his pants and shifting to one of the other officers; he gestured to the woman, and she stepped forward slowly.

"Mr. Tillman," Dennis took a startled step back, no doubt surprised that they knew his name, and the woman held up a small, black object in her hand. It took Beverly multiple blinks and slight shakes of her head to realize the object was a phone. "Joseph Harris is on the phone and asking to speak to you."

"What?" Dennis spluttered, his grip on Beverly loosening slightly. "The hell? No way! Do you really expect me to believe—"

The officer tapped a button on the phone, and a man's raspy voice came through a second later. "Dennis, I need to speak to you privately."

Dennis's grip tightened suddenly, and Beverly struggled to breathe as he snarled, "That's a goddamn trick!"

"Dennis," the voice on the phone was stern, then. "Don't do anything stupid; let's talk. Now."

A long pause drifted by, before the hand around her throat vanished entirely, the knife clattering onto the pavement. Beverly slumped to the ground with a grunt, choosing to stare at the sky and listen to conversation around her instead of attempting to stand and risk hurting herself further.

"Harris?" Dennis sounded beyond startled, and perhaps a bit scared. "What are you doing?"

"I need to speak with you," Harris repeated, his tone leaving no room for refusal. It was the same tone Beverly's father used with her when he was concerned but hiding his worry behind his toughness. She wondered idly if Dennis and Joseph Harris had known one another long enough to develop a father-son relationship. It was possible, of course, but Beverly had never considered the likelihood of evil drug lords having a soft, familial side.

Ah, well; it's not really my major concern right now, anyway.

Dennis stepped over Beverly's still body a moment later, and she let her head fall to the side to watch as he took the phone from the officer before retreating once more. He tapped the phone's screen and pressed the device against his ear, saying again, "What are you doing?"

There was a silence as Harris answered, and Beverly let her eyes drift to the side, catching Quincy's gaze; she tried to send the kind man a reassuring smile, but he only grimaced at the sight.

Huh. She'd worry about that later, too—Dennis had just released a shrilly, "What the hell do you mean?!" He started pacing a moment later, running a hand over his hair and looking completely frazzled. Another beat, and then he muttered, defeated, "I . . . I understand, Mr. Harris."

Pulling the phone from his ear, he stepped forward and handed it to the officer. "We'll come with you," he added, placing his hands over his head and kneeling on the ground.

Beverly was so banged up she could barely comprehend what she was seeing.

Had Dennis just surrendered?

Red's exclamation of, "No! Dennis, come on, man!" confirmed her thoughts, and she questioned what Harris had said to convince the younger man of that particular choice.

"Red," Dennis's voice was commanding, "get down, damn it."

A stream of curses came from the other man, but there were no more gunshots, so she assumed he'd copied Dennis's actions. The officers descended in the next instant, three going to Dennis while another three hurried to Red. The female officer who had given Dennis the phone was quick to approach Beverly, with Quincy limping along beside her, one of his hands clasped on her shoulder for support.

"You alright, Beverly?" Quincy asked, while the lady officer knelt, put on a pair of rubber gloves, and started messing with Beverly's face.

The touching was uncomfortable, and Beverly swatted at the woman's fingers halfheartedly, barely managing to get her hands an inch in the air. "Ger'off," she murmured, only to start gagging when the metallic liquid in her mouth got clogged in her throat. The officer helped her sit up immediately, and Beverly was quick to suck in greedy mouthfuls of air.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The woman gave Beverly a smile, though it was strained at best. "I'm Officer Green, Beverly. Do you feel any pain?"

Beverly's vision started to twist, until the once too-bright colors were replaced with dull greys. "Dunno. M'numb."

Better than hurting, I guess.

She guessed wrong, if the slightest tightening of Officer Green's lips was any indication. "I'm going to check and see if you're seriously injured, okay? I know you have a concussion, but that wouldn't cause internal bleeding."

Beverly stared at the woman's face for several moments, before she blinked and mumbled to herself, "Oh. 'Ternal? Ow."

Officer Green didn't answer, and Beverly faintly felt the pressure of the woman's fingers running over her skin, starting at her shoulders and working over the rest of her body slowly.

Beverly shifted her attention to Quincy, who was on her other side, his face decorated with bruises and cuts. "Glad you're n'dead," she told him, staring at a particularly nasty gash on his forehead.

Quincy chuckled, balancing carefully on his uninjured leg. "Me too, Beverly. Is there anyone I should call for you?"

Even in her dazed, half-conscious state, Beverly knew the answer to that question. "Griff—" she was cut off by a sudden, racing pain shooting up from her stomach and engulfing her entire body in a haze of pure agony. It was the kind of pain that zipped through your body at top speed, causing your fingertips to tingle and taking your breath away as it engulfed your entire being and left you encased in a fire of anguish.

A scream gurgled from Beverly's throat, and her back arched as she tried to move away from the cause of her hurt. The suffering ceased after several long beats, and the ringing in her ears faded gradually, replaced by Quincy's urgent voice: "—the damn ambulance?! Breathe, Beverly, breathe."

She tried to do as he said, she really did.

But it was too hard, what with the black spots creeping up in her vision and a sudden desire to sleep forever.

"Gri . . . Gr'fin . . . I—Griff . . ." she tried again, the word stalling on her lips as her voice died. She let her eyes slip shut, and her consciousness began to slip away.

Her last thought was that, God, Griffin is going to be so pissed at me.