All warnings, disclaimer, thanks, and so forth can be found in the first couple installments. No need for redundant redundancy. Should anyone get a hankerin’ to communicate on this here story (eeep!) for any reason, feel free to contact me at: travelingpastry@yahoo.com

Resa immediately stepped in front of Jennifer, holding the smaller woman behind her back as an instinctive form of protection. She could feel her tremble beneath her touch and it only served to anger her further. Dammit, how had this happened! Alfons, here…It was the last thing she expected. After all, her connection to the Sacred Heart was so distant and obscure. It was something she had never discussed when she was with him so how…?

Seeing him hold a gun on the frightened sister stirred her further.

"You bastard," she seethed. "Have you no shame? She’s a nun."

"At the moment, she’s a hostage and no, I have no shame. Thought you knew that by now." He nodded in Jennifer’s direction and Resa felt a chill run down her center. "This the little girl who gave Manny the broken nose?" he asked, then tipped his head to one side and smiled. "She’s cute." Winked at Resa. "I see your taste has changed as well since last we spoke."

She ignored that. "What do you want?" she demanded coldly.

"Three guesses and the first two don’t count."

Resa didn’t need psychic abilities to understand his meaning; he always did have a one track mind, especially when it came to her. His obsession was something over which he had no control. She set her jaw to one side, willing to play ball…for now.

"Fine," she said. "I’m yours—"

"Resa!" Jennifer said, wide-eyed, but she continued over the protest.

"Just let the others go."

"She says as if she’s the one holding the gun on the nun." He paused as if to savor his own words. "Oooo. ‘Gun on the nun’...Has a nice little ring to it, doncha think?" Her icy stare was the only reply. "Oh, come on, Resa. We haven’t seen each other in years. Didn’t absence make your heart grow just a teeny bit fonder for me? No? Well, no mind. We’ll have plenty of time to play catch up soon enough and from the looks of things, I get the idea you have a lot of ‘splainin’ to do."

"Are you going to let everyone go?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

Alfons made a show of considering the option, even scratching his bearded chin with the gun in his hand so it came alarmingly close to the side of the nun’s head then he arched a brow.

"Do we getta keep the blonde girl?" he asked, clearly enjoying his position of power.

"What do you think?" she shot back.

He mock pouted. "Too bad. I was hoping for a nice game of Parcheesi between the three of us."

"You leave her out of this," Resa warned quietly.

"Oh, possessive are we?" He shrugged. "No matter. She looks a little scrawny anyhow. And besides," he continued, lowering his voice. "We never really needed help with our games, now did we?"

She cocked a single eyebrow and said nothing.

"Okay. You know you’re the only one I want anyway." He jerked his head in the direction of the main building. "Bring Blondie this way."

Resa stiffened. "Why?"

"So that I might ravage her," he replied then couldn’t contain his laughter. "Just kidding. You should see your face right now. Brrrrr..." He pretended to shiver then drew the shaking nun a little closer. "Actually, I just want to put her with the rest of the flock, kinda keep everything tidy. You know how much I hate it when things get messy."

Resa didn’t need further persuasion, she knew the bastard too well. Alfons may like to make light on the outside but he reveled in the chance to engage in pure, unmitigated violence and to challenge him when he clearly held all the cards would be foolish. Resa might have risked it were she the only one involved but not when there were other lives at stake.

Still, the qualms were out in full force as she slowly stepped aside and glanced over at Jennifer. The light green eyes that met hers were indeed filled with anxiety but there was her characteristic tenacity as well and it brought to Resa a tiny degree of relief. She drew comfort knowing the younger woman would remain strong in the given situation, though she expected no less. Jennifer had exhibited fearlessness at every given turn since they had met. It was part of what made her extraordinary and yet another reason why Resa cared about her so deeply.

She reached out to gently squeeze Jennifer’s shoulder and smiled a little, somehow aware she did not need to say aloud what she was feeling for the younger woman to understand.

Jennifer covered her hand with her own and gave a tiny smile in return. "Back atcha," she said in a low voice.

Alfons rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, break it up you two. This is nauseating." He waved his gun toward the building. "Let’s go. We’re holding up the group activities."

Resa and Jennifer walked side by side up the steps past Alfons and the terrified nun whom only now Resa recognized as her old history teacher, Sister Clodagh. The guilt cut deep as she met the older woman’s frightened eyes and realized all this fear was brought about because of her presence here. Just as Sister Mary Elizabeth had predicted. What had she actually said? I won’t allow the serpent into Eden, or something like that…well, as it turned out, that was exactly what she had done. And it cost them all.

Resa clenched her jaw and struggled to control her anger as they entered the main building of the convent/school with Alfons and Sister Clodagh following. She knew she needed to stay clear-headed, focused. She could not and would not act until she knew all the variables and that also meant making sure no one else was possibly at risk for getting hurt.

She shot a glance over at Jennifer and apprehension tightened its hold on her. Above all else, she had to keep her young companion safe. It was, to her, the paramount concern.

"Nice digs you got here, Sister," Alfons said from behind them. "Take it you guys didn’t go for that vow of poverty crap, eh? I can appreciate that. Through those doors there, kids."

Resa noticed that the doors to the South Parlor were open and headed in that direction. As she passed into the room she stiffened and heard Jennifer’s little gasp. They exchanged quick, startled glances.

The room itself was essentially as Resa remembered from her youth. Quite stunning. The ceilings were highly arched and beautiful oak wood moldings skirted along the walls. And in the back there was an elevated area that, if necessary, acted as a stage for school assemblies or plays.

It was also the natural location for Alfons to have gathered all twenty of the sisters of the Sacred Heart, with at least ten armed Vartan gang members surrounding them on all sides.

Resa made immediate eye contact with the Mother Superior and tensed further. She couldn’t read the older woman’s expression but she really didn’t need to. This was a nightmare. She would never have come to the convent if she thought for a second that her presence would endanger any of the sisters. Never. But such a prospect had seemed so unlikely at the time she hadn’t given it serious consideration. Clearly, that was a mistake.

And now all their lives were in danger.

She felt the piercing stare from across the room before she turned to find Manny Gilberto’s hate-filled eyes upon her. She blinked once and looked away…but kept him in her peripheral vision. He was too dangerous not to. In some ways Manny was more of a threat than Alfons because, where she was concerned, his hatred of her made him a loose cannon whereas Alfons could always be counted on to be ruled by his passions.

Alfons released his hold on Sister Clodagh and pushed her forward. The older nun immediately rushed to join the others.

He turned his attention to Jennifer and pointed. "Run along and join the others, Blondie," he said. But Jennifer at first refused to move, instead glancing to Resa, which was an act Alfons did not appreciate. He grabbed her arm. "I’m the one in charge here, little girl, not her. Now fucking move!"

He shoved her hard, causing her to almost stumble to the floor and it took every ounce of self-control for Resa not to go medieval on his ass. Instead she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth and vowed to herself that she would make him pay for that at a later time. The idea assuaged her temper...but only just.

She met Jennifer’s look and sent a silent apology. She watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the younger woman reluctantly crossed the approximate ten yards that separated the two groups to stand beside Sister Stephanie.

Alfons flashed Resa a wide smile before moving slightly away from her to address the well-armed Vartans. He spread his arms wide, like some sort of evangelical preacher who happened to be holding a gun.

"Guess what boys? Mamma’s home! And doesn’t she look great?" He glanced back at her. "Resa, say hello to the crew. About half of them are new to you. Between jail and the frequent skirmish, we’ve had a few losses here and there. You know how it goes. But there are some faces you may recall. Manny you know, of course. You killed his brother, remember?" A malevolent grin. "He certainly does. And Tres over there is still sporting the black eye you gave him earlier today. Tsk, tsk. Not nice. But I’m sure he forgives you. The rather aptly named Fat Boy towards the back there is how we found out where you were hiding. Gotta hand it to the press corps for hopping on a story with gusto, like flies on an open wound. Spotted Blondie on the afternoon news and zing, here we are."

"Like flies."

"Oooooo. Nice one. We’ll get to the ‘wound’ part of the metaphor a little later. Now, most of the fellas kiiiinda want to take your head off, what with the unburdening you did to the local law enforcement before they sent you away on your little prison sojourn. Really wish you hadn’t done that. It caused all sorts of problems for us. I mean, I know you were upset about the ambush and the dead kid and all, but, Resa, we’re your family. We have been here for you when no one else was there to lend you a hand. We gave you everything...and you completely betrayed us." He moved back to stand before her, reaching up to brush the back of his hand along the side of her face and then leaning in to murmur, "You can imagine how hurt we were." He was close enough for her to smell his expensive cologne and feel the heat of his breath against her skin.

She turned her head until there was less than an inch between their faces. "Get over it," she murmured coolly. And suddenly all humor evaporated from his eyes, leaving only an ominous gleam.

"Never."

He moved behind her and pressed his body against hers, his free arm coming up to cross her chest to grab her breast in a possessive clutch. She felt the hardness of him against her as well as the warmth and his beard scratched her skin as he rubbed it against her cheek.

She locked eyes with Jennifer as the younger woman watched this display from several yards away, her sickened expression plainly written across her face. Resa tried to silently impart to her friend that it was okay, she could deal with this but Jennifer was still thoroughly displeased.

"You smell good," he murmured low in her ear. "I am so looking forward to getting reacquainted."

She watched as Jennifer bit her cheek in barely suppressed anger and lowered her gaze for a second. Resa realized the younger woman was possibly mere moments from doing something they would both regret and that she would have to take action to prevent this.

She reached up to stroke Alfons’ hand and replied in a low purr, "Then let’s go someplace where we can talk in private."

He pulled back, then leaned her around until they were looking right at each other. She could read the doubt in his expression, that was natural, but there was curiosity, too.

"You’re just saying that because you’re going to try something."

She inclined her head to one side, her hooded eyes revealing nothing. "Perhaps."

He continued to gaze upon her for several more seconds before he closed his eyes and buried his face in the corner of her neck, inhaling deeply as he tightened his hold.

"God, I’ve missed you," he said almost despite himself as he nibbled along her neck.

From across the room she heard Manny hiss in disgust. She glanced up as he took several steps forward, his lips drawn thin across his white teeth.

"What the fuck is this?" he demanded, carelessly using his gun to point at them. "I came here to kill this fuckin’ bitch not to watch you hump her fuckin’ leg, man!"

She felt Alfons still against her and could see him look up at the young Vartan.

"Manny," he said calmly in a tone she recognized as a precursor to his wrath. "Lower your gun right now."

But the younger man took on an unexpectedly defiant air, keeping his arm straight out before him and the gun barrel pointed directly at Resa’s chest.

Alfons slowly pulled away from her. "You kill her...," he said and Resa heard the distinctive click as he cocked the automatic pistol at his side. "...and I’ll kill you…understand?"

Manny’s jaw shifted, not accustomed to keeping his rage under control...but even he had to recognize that he was no match for the likes of Alfons Vega and, after several more tense moments, he reluctantly lowered his gun. But his open hostility did not diminish.

"I thought killing her was the whole fuckin’ reason we’re here, man," Manny said in frustration. "Not this shit."

Alfons stepped from behind Resa to stand beside her. "Don’t you worry about why we’re here. You just do as I say."

"Actually I think he raises a very good question," came the voice from a most unlikely source.

Resa whipped her glance over and saw her old nemesis, Sister Mary Elizabeth step forward with her steely gaze fastened on Alfons in a total lack of intimidation. "Why exactly are you here?"

There followed several seconds of shocked silence as no one was quite certain how to respond to this unexpected turn of events. This sudden confrontation by the Mother Superior was clearly not something Alfons had anticipated and frankly Resa could not blame him.

"Please," the older woman continued boldly. "We would all very much like to know why you and your horde of criminals have taken all of us prisoner with no regard for the fact that you are in a sacred establishment."

Of all people Manny was the first to react. He turned on the Mother Superior, his anger and frustration serving to heighten his natural aggression. "You shut the fuck up, bitch!" he shouted and went so far as to shove the Mother Superior.

Which, curiously, did not go over well with his fellow Vartans.

"Hey!" A couple of them shouted.

A burly guy came forward clearly displeased. "You cut that shit out, Manny!"

Manny turned on him, raising his gun menacingly. "Or what, Rafael? You gonna make me? Huh?"

Rafael scowled at the smaller man, not terribly threatened but not necessarily interested in having this get out of control either. He shrugged one massive shoulder.

"Just cool it, man, s’all I’m sayin’. She’s a nun."

"Wake up, asshole. They’re all nuns. Wha’s your fuckin’ problem?"

"Manny," Alfons said, his tone laced ever so slightly with irritation. "Take it down a notch." The explosive young man was again forced to bite back on his anger as Alfons turned to Sister Mary Elizabeth, presenting her with an almost pleasant smile. "Well, now, Sister, it’s real simple. We’ve come here to get one of our own and bring her home with us." He glanced at Resa. "After all, it’s been quite some time since we’ve seen each other and we have a whooooole lot of catching up to do."

The Mother Superior took another step forward, undeterred by Manny’s hostile presence and addressed Alfons with a total lack of fear. "I can certainly understand your desire to, as you say, bring about the return of one of your own…but it seems to me that some sort of a mistake has been made." The Mother Superior’s glance fell briefly but meaningfully upon her. "Resa Gustavez no longer engages in gang activity and is therefore no longer part of your so-called ‘family,’ thus making your presence here an unfortunate waste of all our time."

Resa stared in open-mouthed wonder at the Mother Superior. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the woman was standing up for her! It was unfathomable. She desperately tried to reconcile The Gorgon from her youth, the nun who had made her young life an exercise in irritation, with this defiant woman before her now…and failed. She met Jennifer’s bright, equally astounded eyes.

Alfons, however, was less impressed. His smile was thin and cold. "Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, Sister, to be concerned with how we spend our time and all," he said tightly. "But why don’t you just let us worry about those matters, okay?" He turned to grab Resa’s upper arm. "Let’s go."

"No." This new voice came from Sister Stephanie as she stepped forward away from the cluster of nuns to join the Mother Superior in defiance.

Alfons did a double take at this second challenge. "Excuse me?"

Sister Stephanie drew herself up to her full height. "Resa is not going with you," the young nun said, her brown eyes as determined as those of the older woman by her side. "She stays here. Where she’ll be safe"

Resa wasn’t certain what was more predominant at that moment, her amazement or her growing concern. Her spirit felt nearly overwhelmed by this unforeseen show of support from both the sisters but the situation itself was far too volatile for her liking, with too many wildly unstable components in the mix. She absolutely had to get the Vartans out of that room and away from the Sisters of the Sacred Heart as soon as possible.

She raised a hand. "Thank you, both of you, but it’s all right," she said. "I’ll go with them."

"You most certainly will not," Sister Clodagh said as she, too, came forward, the fear still present but it now came second to her desire to take a stand alongside her sisters. "You will not sacrifice yourself for us."

Alfons was no longer amused. "What is this? A fucking revival meeting all of a sudden?" He held up his weapon. "This, gun. You, hostages. Get your asses back in the flock with the rest of the sheep before things get out of control."

"No," the Mother Superior said simply and linked her hands in front of her as if she was dealing with one of her more uncooperative students.

Alfons stared at her as if she had quite simply lost her mind. "What do you mean, ‘no?’ You can’t say ‘no.’"

"She just did," Jennifer said with a smile of amazement at the sudden turn of events.

Dark eyes flashed. "Hey, you shut the fuck up," he seethed at her. "You’re not a nun so you I can shoot."

Sister Stephanie moved to stand between Alfons and Jennifer. "But will you shoot me?"

Alfons raised his gun and pointed it straight at her. "You wanna try me?"

Resa did not like the way this was going.

"Alfons," she said in a soothing tone. "You don’t want to do this." A beat, then near-black eyes met hers. "Think about it. You kill me and it’ll barely be a blip on the radar. People will just attribute it to more gang violence and go about their daily lives without a second thought...But if you kill a group of nuns it’ll be splashed all over every paper and newscast in the country and you won’t be able to find a rock big enough to crawl under." She glanced over at the rest of the Vartans, who, as she hoped, were paying very close attention. "None of you will. And don’t think word of your involvement won’t get out. It will. It always does."

She could tell by their expressions that the group of young men – none over twenty-one – recognized the truth in her words and were disturbed. She also knew these boys well enough to know that while the gang was the most important part of their lives, they had also been raised surrounded by reverence for the Catholic culture; no matter how bloody their hands may already be, taking down a group of nuns was, to them, verboten.

Or at least she hoped it was.

Slowly Alfons lowered his gun. "Whatever," he said, his attitude changing to one of bored indifference. "I have what I came for."

Alfons put his hand on her arm once again and started to roughly propel her back towards the door.

"Resa, you don’t have to do this," the Mother Superior spoke up again and Alfons whipped around in combative aggravation.

"All right, I have about had enough of this shit!"

The Mother Superior ignored him and addressed herself directly to her former pupil with an intense authority and conviction. "He won’t shoot you and he won’t shoot us. He is bluffing."

Alfons stared at her in total disbelief but before he could utter a word Resa spoke up.

"That may be," she conceded to the Reverend Mother, grateful for her efforts. "But I can’t take the chance. I’m sorry...for everything."

And her glance slid over to where Jennifer stood, observing the events unfold with open alarm. She watched helplessly as Jennifer’s eyes shimmered with tears and had to fight back on the emotion that choked in her own throat. She realized with a profound sorrow that this moment was in all likelihood the last in which she would ever see the young college student…her friend…and regret consumed her. Once she exited those doors with Alfons and the rest of the Vartans, her future was precarious at best and though she would fight with every ounce of her being to stay alive, there was always the chance... She could see the reality of the situation was not lost on Jennifer and the pain of dreadful uncertainty was reflected in the younger woman’s gaze. There was so much she wanted to say…but their time together had run out.

Jennifer’s expression revealed the younger woman was equally affected and so filled with emotion that she took an unconscious step in Resa’s direction…

…and inadvertently set off a chain of events that would have dire consequences she could not possibly have foreseen. It was only the slightest motion that, in and of itself, should have been no cause for alarm. But tensions were already high and tempers short, making an act as simple as that one step all the spark necessary to ignite a combustible situation.

Especially with Manny Gilberto involved.

The young gang member reacted abruptly and viciously, taking the butt of his pistol and striking Jennifer across her right temple with a savage blow that caught her off-guard and sent her flying several feet across the highly waxed floor. He then slid the cylinder across the frame of his automatic pistol, loading it in a swift, single action that made Resa’s soul turn cold.

"NO!" she screamed and instinctively leaped forward to protect the felled girl, covering most of the area separating them in less than a second.

But her movement drew Manny’s attention and he swung the gun directly at her.

Resa heard Alfons shout "Manny!" from behind her.

She stopped in her tracks. Only a few yards separated her from the angry, young Vartan with Jennifer lying directly in between. Senses were on full alert. Her heart pounded against her chest as she focused on Manny while keeping Jennifer in her lower peripheral vision. She could see the crazed look in his eyes, a mixture of hatred for her and adrenaline for the situation and she knew that he was mere seconds from pulling the trigger on her.

"Goddamit, Manny!" Alfons shouted in irritation.

Manny’s eyes shifted over Resa’s shoulder to where Alfons stood and his lips thinned in anger at what he saw.

"You draw a fuckin’ gun on me over this bitch?" he demanded in bitter disbelief.

"This isn’t about Resa," she heard Alfons say. "This is about my authority. I told you before what will happen. Don’t doubt me. Now drop your gun."

But Manny was growing increasingly emotional with each passing second, his body starting to shake and this deeply concerned her. It made him even more unstable than he already was.

"She killed my brother, man," Manny insisted, sweat springing up across his forehead. "Vincent’s dead cuz a her and I want her to pay. To fuckin’ pay!"

"You let me handle--"
"No!" he interrupted passionately. "No, I don’t believe you gonna do nothin’ ‘cept try and fuck her again! You don’t give a shit what she’s done. How she’s fucked us all." Tears of hatred were in the brown eyes that turned on her. "How my brother woulda been here if it ain’t been for this puta."

Resa said nothing and he spat at her, his lips twisted in a rage that showed no signs of abating. Quite the opposite. A slight motion almost made her glance down but she somehow managed to keep her eyes locked on Manny instead. Still, she realized in panic that Jennifer was stirring to a sitting position and she silently pleaded for her friend to stay down. Just stay down...

"Manny, don’t make me kill you," Alfons warned.

And at this Manny laughed scornfully. "You gonna kill me, huh? After all I done for you, you’d do that? Huh? You’d do that?" Silence was the reply and the young Vartan’s gaze hardened. "Yeah? Well, fuck you!"

It was in that instant she knew he was pulling the trigger. But she did not get hit. Indeed something far worse happened for Jennifer Logan did the unthinkable...she deliberately leaped up from her position between Manny and Resa to put herself in the bullet’s trajectory and was struck in the upper chest.

Blood flew. Her head bowed.

A millisecond after Resa heard the crack of Alfons’ gunshot and saw Manny’s head whip back.

Then the two bodies collapsed in unison.

And chaos once again reigned supreme.

Resa reached out and somehow managed to catch Jennifer’s blonde head before it struck the floor, drawing the limp body into her own in a singular motion as they dropped down together.

It all happened so quickly that even Resa’s lightning instincts felt slow as she tried to wrap her mind around the horror of it all. It was too much too fast and she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think. She could do nothing but stare in utter shock at the bloody, unconscious form she held in her arms.

No, no, no, no, she thought as tears momentarily blinded her.

"Resa!" Aflons’ voice sounded very far away. "Resa!"

She did not acknowledge him or anything else for that matter.

"Resa."

"Listen--"

"NO!!" she screamed in a guttural cry and began to openly weep, the tears streaming unhindered down her face as she hugged the younger woman’s body close to her chest. Not again...not again...

She felt Alfons’ hand on her shoulder and she jerked it away. Let him kill her if he wanted to, she didn’t care.

"Resa come with me now," he demanded and she felt his grip tight upon her arm.

She reacted at once, grabbing his fingers and bending them painfully back as she looked up at him with pure loathing. He was stronger than she and jerked his hand away but she saw that she’d hurt him and that was all that mattered.

"I’m not going with you," she said coldly, never despising him more than she did at this moment.

He responded by pointing the gun in her face but she didn’t flinch.

"Do it," she whispered and a flicker of doubt crossed over his face as he realized she was serious.

He hesitated. Then he glanced up at something as Resa sensed an unexpected presence close around her.

She tore her eyes from him and felt a sudden awe pierce her grief as she witnessed every member of the convent of the Sacred Heart move quietly forward to surround her and Jennifer. And Alfons Vega, ruthless leader of a brutal gang of thugs with more death on his hands than Hades himself could handle, was forced to step back. He seemed nonplused by the turn of events, as were the rest of the Vartans who did not quite know what to do. They looked among each other, confused and more than a little anxious. After all, if they couldn’t shoot these people or beat them up, then what could they do?

The glaring answer, of course, was nothing.

Sister Stephanie knelt across from her, distressed brown eyes taking in the two women and their perilous situation. Resa looked to her.

"Call 911," she ordered and Sister Stephanie stood immediately, slipping out of the group to make the phone call.

One of the Vartans pointed his gun at the young nun.

"Don’t move!" he warned.

But their threats no longer held meaning and Sister Stephanie looked him straight in the eyes without a trace of fear.

"There’s been enough death in this place already," she said with steely resolve then turned to hurry out of the room.

The young Vartan glanced nervously at Alfons who, after a beat, motioned for him to lower his gun.

For several seconds he said nothing, then he shook his head in amazement at the unforeseen defeat. "Well, don’t that beat all…Boys, The Brides of Christ just kicked our asses."

Then he started to laugh at the absurdity of the notion, holding his side as if the amusement was almost too much. When he calmed he shook his head again and glanced down at the slain figure of Manuel Gilberto. His expression was difficult to read but it almost looked like regret. It passed quickly.

He motioned to Tres and the Vartan named Rafael. "Grab Manny and let’s go," he ordered.

The two men picked up the body and carried it out the open South Parlor doors, the others gladly following.

Before Alfons exited he locked on Resa one last time. "You know, of course, this isn’t over," he said evenly.

Her jaw shifted to one side and she knew her hatred for him radiated from every pore.

"Not until you’re dead," she promised.

He inclined his head, and smiled. "Or you are."

And with that, he slipped out the door.

Jennifer Logan was in trouble. Serious trouble. Resa could feel it and it frightened her desperately. A part of her wanted to do nothing other than hold the blonde woman but she knew that every second was precious and instead slipped into her state of natural authority. Self-indulgent grief would have to wait.

"We need to elevate her legs and left arm," she commanded, pointing to a couple of the nuns as she carefully lowered Jennifer to lie flat on the floor. This was to concentrate the blood circulation into the torso area where it was most needed and not burden the heart to pump into the extremities. "I need some towels or some cloth right away."

"Here." The Mother Superior was the first to strip off her white wimple and hand it to Resa. The former gang leader paused a second as she met the older woman’s hazel eyes.

"Thank you," she said, those two words holding a far greater meaning that was not lost on her former nemesis.

"Of course."

Resa took the white cloth and immediately used it to apply pressure to the entrance wound, which wasn’t bleeding too severely. Of course, that could be a bad sign, meaning the blood was possibly flowing internally and causing even greater damage. They would not know for certain until they got to the hospital and x-rays were taken.

As gently as possible, she lifted Jennifer’s right shoulder, worried about potential broken bones but knowing no other way to search for an exit wound.

As it turned out, the hole was higher up at an angle, close to the shoulder, which meant it was likely the bullet had ricocheted at some point. Lord only knew what the internal damage would be.

But she noted that here the blood was freely pooling beneath her and Resa used the second wimple she was given to press against the hemorrhaging injury, keeping her hand and arm beneath Jennifer’s back to do so.

It was then she noticed that Jennifer was having difficulty breathing, a sickening sucking sound coming from her right upper chest area, where the wound was located.

Resa frowned and quickly but gently removed the younger woman’s brown suede jacket and slipped off the bloodstained, white T-shirt to expose the wound.

The hole was less than an inch in diameter and a pinkish froth gurgled up. She placed the palm of her hand against the entrance wound and in effect sealed the chest once again. With sinking dread she realized a significant part of Jennifer’s airflow was occurring at the bullet hole with every inspiration rather than through the nose or mouth and it needed to be taken care of immediately.

While reapplying pressure with the wimple against the exit wound, Resa glanced up at one of the nuns.

"I need a square piece of plastic about so big or cellophane if you have it and I need some tape. Pronto."

The nun dashed off, thankfully not asking any time-delaying questions.

"Where’s the ambulance?" Resa demanded after a moment, wiping one tear-filled eye across her shoulder so she could better see.

"On their way," Sister Stephanie responded as she hurried to their side.

"How long?"

"The operator said three to five minutes."

Resa absorbed the news and looked down at Jennifer’s pale, sweaty face. Three to five minutes felt like an awfully, awfully long time. She swallowed hard and glanced up when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Sister Stephanie’s expression was one of deep sympathy. And understanding. After all, hadn’t she just been through something like this?

"She’ll make it," the young sister said with conviction.

Resa could only nod, blinking back the tears.

Oh, God, what had the girl been thinking? Why had she done something as reckless as this? Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know that this was a far worse fate in Resa’s estimation, that she’d rather be the one shot than to lose her...

No. No, she had to stop thinking like that. Jennifer was not going to die. Not while she was around. She wouldn’t let her. As long as there was breath in her body and blood in her veins she would not allow that to happen.

The nun on the errand ran back into the South Parlor, carrying a wide variety of things. Breathlessly she handed Resa several pieces of plastic, both hard and soft, cellophane, scotch and masking tape, and, most glorious of all, a basic first aid kit.

Resa opened the kit with one hand, keeping her other on the bullet entrance wound to block the airflow. She located a roll of white medical tape, a pair of scissors, and the plastic package off a roll of dressing.

"What do you need?" Sister Stephanie asked.

"Put your hand over the bullet hole like this." She demonstrated. "We have to keep the air from escaping there."

The young nun at once complied and if she felt queasy at the bloody task she never let on. Once Resa’s hands were both free, she began preparing the plastic, folding it into a square approximately 3 inches wide then set about snipping off four strips of tape and lining them up on her arm for quick access. She moved Sister Stephanie’s hand and wiped away the dark red blood from Jennifer’s skin before she placed the plastic over the wound against her chest.

"Hold that down," she said, meaning the plastic, and then used the strips of tape to seal the plastic around the sides, leaving one corner open. "That’s so no air enters through the hole when she breathes in but can escape when she exhales," she explained in anticipation of the question. "It’ll help her breathe."

The Mother Superior, who had been standing behind her, knelt down beside them to look over her former pupil. "How do you know how to do this?" she asked with an almost awed appreciation.

Resa hesitated, then shrugged, keeping focused on her task. "I worked in the infirmary in prison."

There was a brief pause before the Mother Superior murmured, "What an unexpected blessing."

Resa glanced up to meet the sincere gaze. "Yeah," she said softly. "I guess it was."

She turned her attention back to Jennifer and was relieved to see the young woman’s breathing was already steadier. Good. Now she just had to concentrate on stemming the blood flow. She again reached her arm underneath Jennifer’s back to apply pressure to the exit wound, lowering herself to lie down on her side next to the half-dressed, unconscious younger woman in order to do so and ignoring the pain in her own shoulder. For a moment a part of her recognized that if she didn’t know better it would look for all intents as if they were almost cuddling.

But such was not to be.

Jennifer’s unconsciousness concerned her. The gunshot itself wasn’t cause enough for her to pass out so she attributed it to shock and mentally noted that she would pay extra attention to her breathing to make sure she didn’t accidentally somehow choke. She placed her lips against Jennifer’s bruised temple and felt the girl’s erratic pulse as well as the coolness of her skin.

"She needs a blanket," she told the Mother Superior, now as worried about the shock as the gunshot wound.

The Reverend Mother turned to one of the other nuns and told her to find the nearest blanket, comforter, or cover and bring it to them as fast as possible.

"Hang on," Resa whispered into Jennifer’s ear. "Baby, please hang on." She left her face tucked close to the young woman’s head, breathed in her scent, and hugged her tight. She tried to swallow but her throat was too dry.

Where the hell was that ambulance?!

Moments later she felt a blanket being tucked around both she and Jennifer and she looked up as the Mother Superior reached out to place a calming hand over Resa’s own.

"They’ll be here soon," she said reassuringly.

Resa didn’t trust herself to speak. All she could think was that Jennifer was her responsibility and she had failed her. Was supposed to keep her safe and yet here she was, clinging to the edge of life. She would never forgive herself if...

Fresh tears streamed down her face. It was the first time she had allowed herself to cry since getting out of prison and one of the very few times she had ever done so in her entire life, though not for lack of opportunity. She simply was not an overtly emotional person. Whether by nature or as a byproduct of her less than nurturing upbringing, she really could not say but crying was something she had generally managed to avoid, with a couple notable exceptions. And she hated the thought of crying in public. When Mother Gloria had called her into her office to tell her about Luis, Resa had managed to restrain herself until after the funeral and then had gone off alone to cry for maybe fifteen minutes, whereupon she vowed to never do so again.

But now, here with Jennifer, she didn’t care who saw her or what opinions they might have. She just knew she hurt. Deeply. Far deeper than she had ever hurt before in her life. Even more so than with Luis because now she knew more than she had then, understood better what it meant to care for another human being and be cared for by them in return and what a truly precious gift that was.

And what losing it would mean.

A sound reached her ears and she stilled until her mind registered that what she was hearing was indeed a siren. Hope fluttered within her chest.

Moments later she heard someone shout, "They’re in here!"

She twisted around and saw one of the most welcome sights of her young life: A navy blue uniformed EMT technician enter through the South Parlor doorway, followed by two more technicians pulling a wheeled stretcher and Resa Gustavez nearly cried out in relief.

The lead male technician was a big, broad shouldered white guy with close cropped curly brown hair and an intense, professional demeanor. Resa glanced at the tag across his shirt and saw his name was Bruce, a fact he confirmed seconds later when he introduced himself.

"She’s been shot," she informed him as she sat up. "The men who did it are gone."

She removed the blanket while still keeping her hand on the exit wound.

"What’s that?" he asked, pointing to the plastic square affixed to Jennifer’s upper chest.

"She has a sucking chest wound," Resa explained. "I rigged that to block the air intake."

The EMT stopped a second to throw an impressed look in her direction. "Nice work," he said, then turned to the other two EMTs, one an Asian male and the other a white female. "Will, get me the oxygen tank and an occlusive dressing, stat." Then he turned back to Jennifer and frowned. "How long has she been unconscious?" he asked as he slipped on a pair of latex gloves.

"Since she was shot. I think she passed out from the shock."

He nodded gravely. "What’s her name?"

"Jennifer Logan."

He leaned closer to the supine young woman. "Jennifer," he called out loudly. "Jennifer can you hear me?" No response. He tried again. "Jennifer?" Again nothing. Then the head EMT reached out to thump her once upon the sternum, a move that immediately elicited a frown and a groan from the college girl. He glanced back at the female EMT. "Note she’s a ‘P’ on the AVPU scale."

"A ‘P’?" Sister Stephanie asked.

"She responds to the pain stimulus."

"I’m holding down the exit wound," Resa informed him. "It’s up here on her shoulder. Might have ricocheted off a rib."

"You a doctor?" He lifted her shoulder to examine the wound then reached out to take Jennifer’s pulse.

"No. Just did a little…volunteer work at a hospital."

"Lucky for her." He frowned at the pulse reading. "Hmmm. Little too erratic for my liking. Dana, get me a saline drip ready, please and alert Good Samaritan that we’ll be coming in with a female, early 20’s, ‘gsw’ to the upper chest, open pneumothorax. Presently unconscious. Vitals are fairly stable but she’s gonna need trauma care on arrival."

"On it."

The female EMT dashed back toward the ambulance just as the Asian male EMT came running in with an oxygen duffel containing an O2 cylinder and mask. He dropped to a crouch and attached the tubing from the non-rebreather facemask to the cylinder’s regulator. A couple seconds later he slipped the mask over Jennifer’s face and fixed the clear, plastic straps so it would fit. Then he grabbed sterile gauze and politely took over for Resa to hold down the exit wound.

Resa scooted aside but reached out to take hold of Jennifer’s hand, unwilling to completely break contact.

"Ma’am," the EMT named Will said. "I’m gonna need a little room here."

Resa nodded and reluctantly started to release her hold when she suddenly felt Jennifer’s fingers tighten around hers. She looked up immediately and, with an almost dizzying thrill, saw the blonde woman’s eyes were blinking.

"She’s coming around," Bruce said. "Jennifer, can you hear me?"

Jennifer slowly nodded, her expression one of understandable disorientation and pain.

"Okay, Jennifer do you know what happened to you?" Bruce asked.

"Shot," she croaked out, her tremulous voice muffled by the oxygen mask. Her eyes opened and searched around. "Resa?"

Resa gripped Jennifer’s left hand and leaned forward until she was in her line of vision. "I’m here."

Green eyes met hers and softened at once. The younger woman started to speak but Resa shook her head. "No, no. Don’t speak. Rest."

Jennifer nodded ever so slightly, her eyes closing a fraction.

"We need to load her up and get going," Bruce announced.

"I’m coming with," Resa said firmly.

"Ma’am I don’t—"

"That wasn’t a request." She fixed him with a hard look that drove home her point.

Bruce looked over both women with an assessing gaze. It was policy that family members were allowed to ride along during medical transportation and only if their presence would help calm the victim but it wasn’t something most EMT’s or paramedics particularly cared for. In the opinion of most, outsiders mostly just got in the way. But as he was the lead paramedic, it was his call.

"I need her." The young woman’s voice was rough and she tightened her hold on Resa.

The head EMT looked at the girl’s expression and sighed, perhaps realizing the decision was a foregone conclusion.

* * * *

It was the steady beep of the heart monitor that had lulled Resa to sleep and it was that same beep that was the first sound to penetrate her consciousness as she stirred awake.

She lifted her head off the edge of the bed and saw the thin, orange fingers of early morning light reaching in through the slats of the recovery room blinds, stretching over the lower part of Jennifer’s sleeping body. A tiny surge of relief went through her as she recognized the color was returning to the girl’s cheeks and the grasp against her palm felt warmer, somehow stronger.

A saline bag hung on an IV pole and occasionally dripped into Jennifer’s right wrist. The doctors had inserted a tube between a couple of Jennifer’s right ribs to facilitate her breathing, pronouncing the girl to be ‘extremely lucky’ that the ricocheting bullet, with the exception of the right lung, had missed all the major organs and arteries. She did have a couple broken ribs and her right shoulder blade was fractured but there was no damage that couldn’t be repaired with time.

Resa would never forget the systematic anarchy that greeted them upon their arrival in the ER. One of the trauma nurses had proclaimed Jennifer a "Plan Blue" -- which apparently meant she was to be taken straight to the OR without any prep time -- and rushed her into an operating area whereupon she was swarmed by a bevy of trauma unit members, doctors, nurses, technicians, and interns.

Resa had stayed throughout which was completely against the rules but no one had the balls to make the intense Amazon leave. Only when she was certain Jennifer was going to be all right did she at last go to a designated area where two uniformed members of the LAPD greeted her.

A small part of her was mildly amused that she was giving her third legitimate police report in little more than a day but she kept that to herself and dealt with the officers with a gravity and exhaustion she did not need to feign.

She gave the police as much information as she could, holding nothing back, not even her own past criminal record. Since the Sisters of the Sacred Heart corroborated her account, talking with the cops was mostly procedural. She watched the weary expressions of the officers, saw the flicker of recognition and dread cross their faces as she told them of Alfons Vega’s involvement and she knew with utter certainty that there was nothing they could do to bring him to justice. They were hampered by the rules of justice, something with which Alfons never bothered. They would be no match for him and if she allowed them to go after the gang leader then only more innocent lives would be put at risk.

No, in the end she knew exactly where the responsibility for Alfons lay.

Two hours later, her exhaustion thoroughly exacerbated, she left the police officers and went to the trauma cubicle where they had wheeled Jennifer post-op to recover. Three hours after that they had been moved to a private room.

The Mother Superior and Sister Stephanie had come by at some point, she did not know the exact time, only that it had been quite late and she was touched by the diligence of their care. Apparently the Sacred Heart had become something of a zoo after their departure, which, upon reflection, wasn’t terribly surprising. Word of a second violent act at the convent in less than a day had created quite a stir, both with the police investigators and the salacious news media who had descended on the school like hungry locusts. The next few days would prove to be trying to say the least. But the sisters were taking the events in stride, which Resa probably would have found amazing if she hadn’t already come to expect the unexpected from them. She knew she owed the sisters a great deal, more than she could ever hope to repay. They had risked their lives for her, for both of them, and she felt momentary shame at how her antagonistic her relationship with both women had started out. But she had read only care and concern in their eyes as they regarded her and for that she was thankful.

Sensing her fatigue, the Mother Superior had offered to take her home but the invitation been only out of politeness and, as expected, Resa had graciously declined. Her place through all this was with Jennifer, a fact that the sisters seemed to tacitly understand.

Resa’s eyes now traveled over the girl’s face, taking in the gentle slope of her cheek, the way her eyelashes lay softly against her skin, the white glimpse of her teeth that peeked out between barely parted lips. It was a face she would never forget.

She raised the younger woman’s hand and brought it up to her lips, kissing it and resting the back of it against her own cheek. The skin felt warm and alive and that was what mattered to her, that she was alive.

Just then she sensed the door behind her opening and glanced over her shoulder, expecting it to be a nurse or police officer or perhaps even one of the sisters from the Sacred Heart.

It was, instead, Father Hector.

She vaguely remembered having asked Sister Stephanie to call the Padre at some point, somehow feeling the need to have the priest who had been the catalyst for her meeting Jennifer made fully aware of the situation at hand. He was also a friend and she wanted him near.

He stood in the doorway a moment, absorbing the scene with his brown eyebrows knitted in concern for both women. Then he crossed over to the bed and gazed down at the sleeping Jennifer. She could see the burden of guilt in his eyes as he reached out a hand to lightly touch the top of her head in a gesture of care and she once again felt the shame of failure.

He glanced over at Resa. "How is she?" he asked.

"Getting better," she assured him. "She’ll make it."

His handsome face relaxed at the welcome news, then he turned the focus of his attention fully on her. "And how are you?"

Resa was quiet a long moment, then murmured a bitter, "Better than I deserve to be."

Father Hector watched her, seeing more than she knew she let on. Even though they had grown close over the years, the priest had always respected Resa’s natural barriers when it came to physical contact and now was no exception. Whereas with others who displayed such obvious signs of grief he would hug or make some overt endeavor at comfort, with Resa he did not. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care or would refrain from trying to help. Far from it.

"Come with me," Father Hector said, stepping back from the bed.

"Where?"

"There’s a chapel not far from here." He shot her a wry look. "It’s Episcopalian, but I won’t tell the Cardinal if you won’t."

She favored him with the tiniest of smiles, appreciating the subtle lift in mood even if it did nothing to ultimately dispel the self-recriminations plaguing her heart. Together they exited the room, though she took one last glance back at Jennifer, which the Padre saw and took note.

The chapel was located on the fourth floor and was not particularly large, only big enough to hold at most twenty visitors in its four wooden pews. The compact altar was well lighted but the rest of the room was cast in half shadows best suited for somber soul searching. The chapel was not built for large gatherings but rather to act as refuge for those in need of a haven in which to retreat. In this early morning hour it was empty and theirs alone to inhabit.

They took their seats on the front pew and he regarded her closely.

"Sister Stephanie filled me in on most everything when she called," he said, keeping his voice low in deference to their setting. "Sounds as if it was a pretty frightening ordeal."

She had a sudden flash of Jennifer being shot and shuddered. "It was," she murmured, shaking her head a little to clear herself of the image.

"She also said you handled yourself bravely."

Resa swallowed hard. "They were the brave ones. The sisters stood up to the Vartans and they won…But they shouldn’t have had to. That was my fault."

"Resa -- "

"No, it was. I brought those bastards there in the first place. That’s my failure." She brushed a tired hand over her eyes then dropped it into her lap and looked off at the display of prayer candles, some still burning in their small, glass holders. She felt alone in her self-disgust. "I failed," she said, her voice remote and flat. "I failed Jennifer, I failed the sisters, I failed you…and I failed myself."

"You’re being unfair."

"It’s how I feel."

"Then I respectfully disagree."

Resa waved her hands. "Look where we are, Padre," she said in slight exasperation. "Look at why we’re here. Jennifer was made homeless these last few days because the Vartans saw me, Alfons came to the Sacred Heart because he wanted to get me, Manny was shooting at me."

"And Jennifer is alive because of you."

"After she got shot by mistake. Because of me. Do you see the pattern? Remove Resa Gustavez from the scenario and there is no scenario. People go about their daily lives as they should and they don’t hide out because they’re being chased by street gangs, they don’t get shot, they don’t wind up in emergency rooms. They go to school and they get good grades and they become journalists just as they always dreamed they would. They lead good, productive lives without fear of dying." She shook her head. "I have no idea what that’s like."

"That doesn’t mean you can’t learn."

"No, it doesn’t. But Jennifer can’t be a part of that, not if she’s going to remain safe." Her eyes darkened considerably. "And she is going to remain safe. She has to."

Father Hector paused at the intensity of her tone and tipped his head to one side, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I take it the two of you have grown close over the past few days."

She met his eyes but said nothing. She didn’t need to. It was written all over her face and she couldn’t have hidden it from him even if she had made the effort, which she did not.

"Oh, I see." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that does complicate things."

"No. It simplifies them. I know what I have to do."

He stiffened. "What does that mean?"

She shook her head. "I can’t tell you."

"Resa, you can tell me anything."

"Not this."

"Resa- - "

"No, Padre." She shook her head again, determined. "No."

He sat still, almost frozen in his seat, before saying with clear trepidation, "Resa, I don’t like the sound of this."

She turned in the pew to meet him dead on and reached out to place a loving hand against the side of his strong, handsome face. "Padre, there’s only so much you can do for me. Over the years you have guided me, helped me, been my friend when others wouldn’t even look me in the eye and I can never express how much that has meant to me…but ultimately this is my life. And I have to do what I think is right."

He took both of her hands in his, his brow drawn forward in a deep frown. "You’re scaring me," he whispered.

She slid over to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly in a display of emotion that would have been impossible for her before she’d met Jennifer. It was just one of the many things the college student had taught her.

"Thank you for everything," she told him softly.

His strong arms held her close. "Please don’t do anything foolish," he begged.

But instead of making a promise she was bound to break, Resa slowly drew away and looked at him. His blue eyes shimmered with concern and more than a little fear as only one who understood her well would know to feel. He was a good man and she would miss him more than he would ever know.

She leaned down to kiss him briefly on the lips before she stood and walked out of the chapel.

* * * *

Sleep was a mosaic of dreams. Countless bits and pieces of images that on their own made little sense and of which, when she awoke, she could recall the specifics of none but instead retained only their essence and the overwhelming impression that she was well and truly loved.

Jennifer opened her eyes. Gradually at first but then the warm rays of mid-morning sunlight struck her and she became aware that she was not at home. Nor at the convent for that matter. She was in a hospital. And in a world of discomfort. It wasn’t exactly pain (the medication mostly prevented that) as much as pronounced annoyance coming from her right side and a dull throb in her head, like having a sinus headache and taking the extra-drowsy medicine, the kind where operating heavy machinery was highly discouraged. A steady ‘beep’ finally penetrated her waning disorientation and she realized that the noise was for her. Her heart monitor. Rather disconcerting.

For obvious reasons last night was a blur in her memory. She remembered Manny pointing the gun at Resa and the terror that seized her at the thought of him pulling the trigger. But from that point on, everything was a jumble, though she did clearly recall Resa’s soft voice begging her to hang on, "Baby, please hang on." That she would never forget.

She felt a by now familiar tingling sensation up her arm and warmth against her left hand. She knew before she slowly turned that Resa was there, by her side.

The former gang leader was asleep. Her head lay upon the bed close to Jennifer’s left hip and the college student’s hand was held firmly between long, graceful fingers. Jennifer studied the other woman’s sculpted face, her high cheekbones and the fierce aura she gave off even when she was asleep and she felt a burning sensation in the center of her chest that had absolutely nothing to do with the events of the previous evening. This was something else entirely.

She idly raised the index finger of her captured hand to lightly trace the outline of the dark-haired woman’s finely carved lips, the touch upon her skin feather-like. But it was enough. Resa’s blue eyes opened and immediately focused on her and the corner of Jennifer’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

"Hi," she eked out in a gravely voice.

"How do you feel?" Resa asked, sitting up and leaning closer, her eyes radiating concern.

She considered the question. "I don’t know yet, I’m still waking up...But I think I feel like crap."

Resa half-laughed despite herself, then quickly grew serious. "You could have been killed, you know. What were you thinking?"

"He was going to shoot you," she said matter-of-factly, her voice still a little slurred from the medication.

"So you thought it would be better if he shot you instead?"

Jennifer frowned a little. "Don’t yell at me Resa," she said, affecting a faux pout. "I’m wounded."

The other woman immediately backed down. Now was not the time to scold the girl. Resa drew in a deep, steadying breath, trying to bring her erratic emotions better under control even as she recognized it was a futile endeavor.

"The doctors and police have been trying to get hold of your parents but there’s no answer at their house."

"They’re on vacation. Sweden, Norway, couple other places."

"Oh. What about your brothers? Would they know how to get in contact with them?"

"Chris’ll know. He’s in Atlanta. Call Information."

Resa nodded, then was quiet a moment, her eyes lowered to where their fingers were linked. Jennifer removed her hand and lightly patted the space on the bed between herself and the metal railing, her meaning clear.

Resa shook her head. "I can’t. You have a tube in your chest. It could dislodge."

"Oh, is that what that is? I thought I was just having a wicked cramp."

"No. It’s to help you breath for a while. The bullet tore through you pretty good, hit your right lung, broke some ribs and your shoulder blade but missed everything else."

"Oh." She paused for a moment, then said, "Still, it’s on the other side."

"Jennifer--"

But then the blonde woman said, "Please," in such a way that the former gang leader was helpless to resist, no matter what her better judgment said to the contrary.

Resa sighed and with infinite caution and care, eased her long, strong build into the space on the bed between the railing and Jennifer, having to lay on her side and making certain she placed as much of her weight on her upper body as possible. It was cramped, uncomfortable, and utterly awkward and there was really nowhere else she wanted to be.

Jennifer gazed up at the crystal blue eyes staring down at her and smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For riding with me to the hospital. For being here when I woke up." Her voice softened as she reveled in their closeness. "For everything."

Resa lowered her eyes and unconsciously took up Jennifer’s hand into her own, running her thumb over the younger woman’s knuckles. "I should be the one thanking you," she answered after a long pause. "I’ve learned a lot from you these past few days. You are such a wonderful person. Kind. Caring." She leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I’m lucky to have known you."

Jennifer frowned, wariness prickling up her spine. "That sounds almost …final."

Resa hesitated, then pulled back to meet Jennifer’s eyes for a long, meaningful moment and the college student felt her already shaky breath leave her in a painful rush of awareness.

"Oh, Resa, no…"

"Shhhhhh," Resa whispered and placed a finger over Jennifer’s mouth to still the protests.

"Res--" Tears blinded her vision and she felt her body start to tremble.

Resa leaned in again to kiss Jennifer’s brow, staying close so their faces remained mere inches apart, their bodies touching and their breaths mingling in an intimate union. Every second brought with it an indelible impression that both women would cherish for as long as they lived.

"Jennifer--"

"No," she continued to protest in a hushed, anguished voice as tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Honey, listen." Resa brushed blonde hair back off the girl’s face in sweet affection. "You have such incredible promise in your life and you’re still just getting started. A lifetime of possibility is ahead for you and no one should ever deprive you of that. No one. Least of all me. You are that special type of person who can make a difference in people’s lives." A sad smile crossed her face. "You did with mine…What kind of person would I be if I didn’t do something to help you in return, to protect you?"

"Protect me by staying here." She reached out to clutch at the other woman’s denim shirtfront. "Just don’t leave me," she begged, her voice desperate and, she realized, more than a little pathetic but she didn’t care.

Resa drew in a deep, unsteady breath and wiped the tears from Jennifer’s face "I meant to leave while you were still sleeping," she confessed softly. "But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair…" She smiled. "And I wanted to see your green eyes again. Just once."

Jennifer tightened her hold on Resa’s shirt and battled valiantly to return the smile. "You just wanted to admonish me for getting shot."

Resa grinned. "That, too."

Jennifer closed her eyes and struggled to keep her breathing from getting out of hand. It was not easy. The sound of her increased heartbeat reached her ears from the monitor as dread started to clutch at her chest. She felt only the crushing weight of despair.

"Resa, if you leave me, I-I don’t know what I’ll do."

"Yes, Honey, you do." She kissed a wet cheek and nuzzled the side of her face. "You’ll live," she whispered.

Jennifer closed her eyes, sniffling back on the tears, her lips quivering beyond her control and her throat burning. Her mind desperately tried to wrap itself around the impossibility of what was happening but could not. Resa was leaving. Permanently. She felt dizzy, nauseous, panicked. She did not know what to do, how to make her change her mind. She was in no condition to chase her down, to physically restrain her long enough to convince her that she didn’t care about any supposed risk. All she wanted to do was be with her. That was it. But that was not possible. She was powerless.

Jennifer peered up at Resa and whispered a sincere, raw, "I love you," before she was choked by a fresh set of tears.

Resa closed her eyes against the pain and fought back on her own longing. In her heart she knew this was the right thing to do, for Jennifer’s sake. It was the only alternative and truth be told she’d known that all along; she’d just fooled herself into wishing otherwise for a while. Into hoping. But then reality had abruptly reared its inevitable head and showed her here with the injury to her friend what the end result of such selfishness could be. She had told Jennifer that she was a dangerous woman to be around and that was no exaggeration. If she did not act here and now, if she did not follow through on what she knew she had to do, then Jennifer could possibly be placed further at risk and that would not stand.

Resa knew she had to go and go now, before the crying woman made her change her mind. But there was one thing more she had to do.

She leaned down and pressed her mouth against Jennifer’s in a kiss that conveyed a thousand different meanings, not the least of which was the regret of good-bye. It was warm, tender, lasted no more than five seconds and when it was over Resa quickly got off the bed and would have headed immediately for the door if Jennifer had but released her hold on the taller woman’s hand.

She stood there for a few moments more, eyes closed and her emotions in total upheaval. Who knows what she would have done if the door hadn’t opened and one of the Good Samaritan nurses hadn’t entered?

But Fate was already in motion and was not to be denied.

"You’re awake," the nurse said as she hustled over to Jennifer’s bed. "I heard your monitor pick up all of a sudden and I figured I’d come in to have a look-see."

It was the distraction Resa needed. She gently disengaged her hand from Jennifer’s and headed swiftly for the door.

"Girl, are you all right? You look upset?" the nurse said as she started to check the college student’s blood pressure.

Jennifer didn’t reply. She didn’t do anything but watch Resa’s retreating figure with a helplessness and hopelessness the likes of which she had never before known as the former gang leader strode out of the room, and her life, without a backward glance.

Conclusion...Part 8

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