A Bad Penny

By Fantasy

Standard Disclaimer: The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, and Ares aren’t mine, they come from the creative minds of Rob Tapert and the folks at Renaissance Pictures/MCA. I’m not making any money out of this little deal, so I’ve had to learn to live with that fact. I have borrowed the girls for a few days; they’ll be home soon.

Violence Disclaimer: There will be some violence in this story. Stace is about ready to blow her top, and Faraday’s life expectancy may not be too good. This story also deals with the subject of child abuse, and there are going to be some flashbacks from Stace’s childhood that are not pleasant, so be prepared. I have tried to deal with this subject objectively, and sometimes abuse can’t be sugar coated; I am certainly not trying to glorify such a horrendous act. But unfortunately, abuse exists, we need to be aware of that fact, and for God sakes do something positive to stop it. If my little story can encouraged even one person to take a stand and do something, then I’m happy. Enough of the soapbox, it’s time to move on.

Sex/Language: Stace and Becca have been together as friends and later partners for thirty-seven years. They are soulmates, in the truest sense of the word. They have a loving relationship, and from time to time they act on certain urges, sometimes graphically. C’mon folks, admit it, we all have urges. Anyway, if you are not at least 21 years of age, please to not read this. Further, if you live in a state or province where this kind of material is illegal, if it is not feasible for you to move, don’t read this. I wouldn’t read this at work either, were I you, your boss might really expect you to be doing this on your own time not his/hers.

Hurt/Comfort: I hate this part. There are some hurtful things that happen in this story. Stace is a victim of child abuse, and as such, has been haunted by that abuses her entire life. Hanky alert in this one, better leave the box nearby.

This is the third story in the series consisting of "Loss" and "Recovery". If you haven’t read those two stories, this one won’t make one bit of sense. I’m not sure how far this series will go, but evidently I have done something worthwhile, because the response I have gotten has been very positive and for that I thank you all very much. I guess I will continue with the series until I either run out of story line, or readers or both, whichever comes first. I really do need your input, so constructive criticism is appreciated. You can reach me with comments and questions, tastefully posed as always. The addy: fantasy@clarkston.com

A Bad Penny

by

Fantasy

September 24, 2ooo

Chapter 1: Justice for Casey

The rage I had successfully kept in check for so many years finally burst forth. I couldn’t stop myself. I tried so hard not to become part of the problem, not give in to the violence. I was going to focus my energies to help the many little Casey’s who had become the victims of all the Arlan Faraday’s of this world who preyed on little chil-dren who couldn’t protect themselves. In all that time, I had lost it only once. That one time, I wanted so badly to cave in Faraday’s skull for what he had done to that poor little baby, his own child. I rationalized later, the justice system, we’re so proud of in this country, would do its job and put Faraday away where he could no longer do any more harm to the innocents of this world.

And for twenty-five years, the system worked. Faraday was given thirty years to life for the murder of his stepdaughter, a fifteen-month-old infant. The district attorney argued that because of his history of abusing children over the previous ten years, and coupled with his lack of remorse warranted the severe sentence. Not severe enough if ya ask me. The one thing, which swung the jury in the state’s case, was my expert testimony. The graphic detail in which I described the extent of the current injuries, and the numerous old injuries, some of which were as much as six to ten months old, swayed the jury. The district attorney kept hammering on the pain and suffering the little child had endure for nearly a year of her little life. The man was good; there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The jury arrived at a unanimous verdict of guilty in less than thirty minutes, and Judge Wilson Foster handed down the toughest sentence ever, in the United States, for child abuse.

Every five years since January 20, 1980, I had attended a parole hearing for Arlan Faraday, never once missing a meeting. This past January was no different; I boarded a plane to Baltimore, Maryland to give my testimony regarding the murder of that tiny infant so long ago. The result was always the same: parole denied. So what happened in the last eight months? The ass hole’s out of jail, that’s what happened!

"Kyle, please tell me why did they let that son of a bitch out of jail? And don’t give me all that prisoner’s rights bull shit either." I’d like to know that myself copper?

By the time I had asked that question, the party had pretty much wound down. The Warrens, the Evan’s, and the Danforth’s were gathered in our living room. I was standing near the huge glass wall that gave our family a remarkable view of the Pacific Ocean. Becca stood behind me with her arms around my waist, in an attempt show her love and support, and keep my raging anger in check as well. Our daughter Sydnee René, and Syd’s best bud, Angela ‘Ange’ Flannery were sitting on the floor in front of Syd’s grandparents. Margie sat in her favorite recliner by the fireplace. Kyle was very nervous. He continuously shifted in his chair, and played with his empty beer bottle. I’d be nervous too if I thought I was going to have my head separated from my shoulders. Just remember; he carries a gun.

"You’re not gonna be happy about this; I certainly wasn’t, I know that." The woman is gonna come unglued, Kyle mused, why me? Just lucky, huh? Who are you? A friend, and trust me you need one ‘bout now. Kyle O’Brien was a young police detective I had met about six years previously who was investigating a case of child abuse. We had treated the little six-year-old boy who had been repeatedly beaten by his mother. The child later died of complications due to his injuries. His mother hung herself in prison. Too bad. Shut the hell up! He had a reputation for being very thorough, and his arrests al-ways stuck. No scumbags got off on technicalities if he was handling the case. You might as well spill your guts, no matter the reason she ain’t gonna be happy. If you say so. Trust me, I know.

"Well it seems Faraday has cancer, and he’s gonna die." And your point would be what? Everybody dies sometime. God you’re a real charmer, aren’t you? Yes, I am. There were a bunch of right to life, anti-capital punishment people who have been demonstra-ting outside the prison. Since it’s an election year, the governor caved in for votes, and commuted Faraday’s sentence. He said he’d paid his debt to society, and was no longer a threat to the community." I was so angry my body began to tremble uncon-trolably.

"This is fucking unbelievable. You’re telling me this happened because some bleeding heart liberals, who never knew Casey Faraday, or what she suffered at the hands of that monster thought it was cruel for Faraday to spend the rest of his miserable life in jail. I’d like to be face to face with those idiots. I’d like them to see Casey’s tiny little bent and broken body. I wonder how they would feel then?" I slumped down to the floor, by angel following along with me.

"Oh God, I am so tired. What’s the point of fighting any more? People don’t care about the children, all they care about is their own agenda." I stretched out on the floor, and Becca lay with me, spooned behind me in the early morning moonlight.

"Why baby, why don’t they care? Why don’t they understand." And I began to cry. I cried for all the little children who didn’t have anyone to cry for them, and I cried for myself because I was so…I don’t know why…I just don’t know. My baby stroked my hair and kissed my head, and tried to reassure me.

"Oh baby, people do care. I care; so do all the people at the trauma center. Irish, Rachel, everyone. Think about all those people you work beside everyday. They all care. The courts and the people there, they care. Sometimes it can be overwhel-ming, but we have to keep trying otherwise all the work we’ve done up to now will be meaningless. Then Casey’s death will have been for nothing. Baby I’m so proud of you. Your courage and determination have been like a beacon to me. Even your bull headed, pain in the ass, attitude gave me the strength to go on, to get well when I could have given up and spent the rest of my life in a wheel chair. I love you so much. Oh my love, please don’t give up now, please don’t." I couldn’t say no, but I couldn’t say yes either.

"I’ll try angel." There was a heavy silence that hung over the room and the occupants. Margie got up from her chair and showed Kyle to the door.

"I’m sorry, I had no idea she’d react that way, but I thought she should know what was going on." Margie was sympathetic and explained my reaction.

"Kyle it’s not your fault. You see her father abused Mac when she was a child. He died of cancer, while he was still in jail; she wouldn’t claim the body, and he’s buried in a…I guess you’d call it…a…a pauper’s grave." Any kind a grave is more than that bastard deserved. If it’d been up to me, I’d a let the crows pick his bones clean. Kyle was shocked.

"My God, I had no idea. I’m sorry. Give my regards to the family, huh? See ya Margie." Margie waved him on.

"I will Kyle, thank you. Be safe you hear?"

Chapter 2: Happy Birthday to Me

The morning sun hit me squarely in the eyes. God I hate that. I turned over, and proceeded to beat my pillow senseless until it succumbed to my demands and plumped up to my satisfaction. I returned to my reveres. Reveres? What’s that mean? Thinking fool! Something you rarely, if ever, have had experience with. Grumpy today aren’t we? Human beings truly are a bizarre species. We go through life, in many cases, totally oblivious to our surroundings. Hey, that’s a good thing. That makes it safer for the rest of us. We are caught up in our own little worlds, and don’t have the time, much less the inclination to think about the people whom we have cursory contact on a daily basis. I wonder about the man in the parable about the Good Samaritan. What would happen to him today? Oh that’s easy; folks would just walk over the top of the guy without a second thought. Or be pissed cause he was in their way. No way they actually stop to help the poor guy. God is that my little voice or me talking. Do I really believe that? If that’s true, I’ve become part of the problem, not the fix. God, I just don’t know. I flopped over on my back and threw the hapless pillow over my face.

Another thing about human beings is simply the way they work; you know the way they think. Now there’s a misnomer: human beings and thinking. Butt out. Anyway, the psychologists call it human nature. Human nature is something everybody has, but no one’s human nature seems to work the same way. There is however one commonality among all of us home sapiens, and that is human nature makes it far easier to see other people’ faults, and suddenly become experts, in the field of human behavior, and give all sorts of advice on how to fix their problems. The other thing about human nature is those same people can never see their own faults, let alone do anything about them. You can number me among the latter bunch. Is all this introspection headed somewhere? Introspection? Didn’t know I knew words with more than one syllable did ya? Frankly no, very good, I’m impressed, and yes there is a point here. It’s time I practiced what I preached. I tossed the pillow to the side and threw the covers off my body. I hopped up and headed to the bathroom. Now the serious thinking can begin. For God’s sake, go away!! My little voice was right about one thing; I’d better start doing some serious thinking about my problems and how I intended to fix them.

I finished my business and stood at the bathroom sink. Happy birthday, smartass. You’ve been on this earth for forty-nine years, and by my reckoning, you’ve got at least thirty-five to go. Wonder if there’s still time to get it right? Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve got a lot to be proud of; you have a beautiful wife and daughter, a respected position in the community, friends, and family. What the hell gives you the right to feel sorry for yourself? Ya got me don’tcha? You could have gone all day without saying that. Maybe you’re right; I’ve got a little middle-age crisis thing going here. I guess it’s the deal with Faraday getting out of jail ‘cause he was sick, and… And you left your old man in jail to die alone. That’s it isn’t it? You’re beatin’ yourself up over that son of a bitch who beat you damned near everyday of your life, and you’re feeling guilty cause he died in jail? Well pardon me if I don’t shed one single tear for that bastard. Let me tell you something little missy! You have saved more people who truly deserved to be saved, and you’ve got no business worrying about one sorry bastard who died where he deserved to be; in fucking jail! Stop the martyr trip; you’ve got bigger and better things to be worried about. For one thing, outside, there are family and friends who want to celebrate your birthday, and honor you for the good person you are. So get your ass cleaned up and get going! Damn, that’s most words I’ve ever spoken at one time to you in all the years we’ve been together. Yeah, don’t let it happen again.

The hustle and bustle associated with a big party at our house was in full swing. Margie was in the kitchen getting food ready for brunch. Irish, Rachel, and Angie were setting up the long tables, out in the yard, where all the food would be placed. All the guys were carrying more food down to the beach for the second barbecue, which would take place this afternoon. All the gifts friends and family had brought for me would be taken down to the beach later on. Becca, of course, was supervising the whole affair. I walked down the hallway where a very sleepy Sydnee René and Ange were just coming out of Syd’s room.

"Good morning ladies. I trust you slept well." Syd didn’t appreciate my good humor just after she woke up. She had a lot in common with her Aunt Rachel in that respect. Gary was sure the only reason he and the good doctor were still married was because he always got up first and had coffee and croissants ready every morning. I could understand his feelings. Becca wasn’t any more amenable to getting up in the morning, than our daughter. Ange on the other hand, was bright eyed and raring to go, which only added to Syd’s sour mood.

"What the hell’s the matter with you Ange, you on somethin’?" Syd growled.

"Heck no Syd," Ange replied, wrapped her arm around Syd’s neck, and dragged my daughter out into the yard. "I’m just glad to be alive!" Syd just groaned and went along with her friend. Becca came up behind me, and encircled my body with her arms, and began feasting on my neck and ear.

"Mmmm, you smell so good, and you taste even better." My angel licked and nibbled my earlobe, and kissed and sucked my neck. She fastened her lips on the pulse point and sucked greedily. I began a continuous moan that erupted from deep in my chest at the pleasure my lover created. "Happy birthday baby, tell me what you want…" I couldn’t speak if I wanted to, and fortunately, Harley negated the necessity for words.

"My God, there are at least six bedrooms in this house, why don’t you go use one of them instead of subjecting the rest of us to your lude, rude behavior." I couldn’t resist a little jab.

"What’s the matter Harley? You just jealous?" Way to go smartass, I think you pissed a very big, very powerful man off. The big man advanced on the two of us, and Becca wouldn’t turn loose of me so I could run. I had no choice but to stand there and take whatever the ex-marine decided to dish out. The look of menace on the big man’s face was unmistakable.

"Jealous huh? I’ll give you jealous." The sheriff swallowed both my angel and I into two powerful, well-muscled arms and squeezed. The he proceeded to give me one very wet, very sloppy raspberry on my neck. "Happy birthday, kid." Then more seriously, "Mac, you okay today?" I know what he was asking, and I nodded to reassure him, but for everybody else I shouted.

"Well I was." I rubbed the slobbers off my neck with my hand and cleaned my hand off on his chest. "What the hell ya trying to do, drown me?" The bantering was on full speed now, I felt all the better for it.

"What? This old man too much for ya, smartass?" My lover entered the fray.

"Dad, dammit would you please stop calling her smartass? I’m gonna have ta hurt ya. Ya got that?" Better watch out ‘jarine’ you’re treddin’ on dangerously thin ice here.

"Yeah," I said, and did the really mature thing and stuck my tongue out at my father-in-law. I was saved from any more ill treatment my Margie’s kettle pounding.

"All right! Irish, Rachel, and I have breakfast…" Rachel interrupted.

"It’s brunch, Margie. You see it’s to late for breakfast…" Margie interrupted Rach.

"Breakfast, lunch, I don’t care what ya call it, it’s food, and it’s ready to eat. Now if ya don’t get out there toot sweet, them flea bitten mongrels will get it, and ya won’t get nothin’." Mongrels? She’s referring to my pedigree Rottweilers as mongrels? If the shoe fits… Wel I won’t have that!

"Hey! Those are my AKC Registered Rottweilers you’re talking about. They’re better bred than a lot of people! And besides, they got sharp teeth, and they ain’t been fed yet this morning, so watch it!" Margie wasn’t impressed.

"Registered smegistered! Any animal, human or otherwise, that spends all damn day lying around lickin’ his own ass ain’t well bred as far as I’m concerned. Now let’s eat." Everyone had a good laugh at my expense, and then made their way out to the yard to have brunch or whatever. As I watched everyone chatting and smiling amiably, I had to admit, I did have a lot to be thankful for and had no business feeling sorry for myself. Told… Stop, don’t say a word.

When I ventured outside, the sight that met my eyes was unbelievable. There were the two long tables full of food, with all our friends and family seated around it waiting patiently for the guests of honor. Near the head of the table was an only slightly smaller table piled high with gifts of every size and shape imaginable. One particular gift was on a square shaped table affair with wheels. It was covered with a gray canvas, the kind Becca keeps in her art studio. To say I was flabbergasted would not be an exaggeration. I’m not very often speechless… Yeah just truculent, pouty, stubborn… Okay. But you get the point. My friends and family had gone all out, and I was hoping some of those presents were for Becca. Becca met rose from her place at the table and strode over to me. I was enfolded in a fierce, emotional embrace, and warm, full sensuous lips descended on mine in a tender, loving kiss. A hungry searching tongue licked my lips fervently requesting entrance to my warm, wet mouth. The kiss conveyed everything we were feeling at that moment: devotion, need, and love. Tongues battled ravenously each wanting to control the other. God how much I love this woman. The two of us were totally oblivious to the audience watching our passion. I could have cared less if I would have been in the middle of Grand Central Station. I needed to let my angel know just how happy and relieved I was to have our connection back again. We were okay, and this one kiss said everything I couldn’t. We broke apart for air. Our eyes met, lapis catching and holding cerulean pools.

"Happy birthday my love. I love you so much." Becca was breathing heavily, trying furiously to draw much needed air into her lungs. I leaned into my love and kissed her again. This time sweetly, sensually. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth and pulled slightly as I drew back. Smiling cockily.

"Thank you love, and happy…what…recovery…that’s lame…no doubt…okay you think of something…oh baby, I’m so happy and relieved you are healthy and whole, and mine. I love you more than my own life, more than I can say. The stars in the uni-verse are minuscule…minuscule…compared to the love which fills my heart only for you." I never claimed to be a poet. Good thing. Irish finally let me off the hook.

"Hey Mac, c’mon, we’re hungry. You two can play huggie bear kissie face on your own time." Well that was a mood killer.

"My God Irish is that all you and Dr. Donnovon think about: food?" Irish thought for a minute.

"What else is there?" Harley looked like Irish was an alien from another planet.

"What d’ya think, you’re a nurse. You should know about this stuff!" Everybody got a chuckle at Nurse Rafferty-Warren’s expense.

"Hey, you just never mind, my private nurse takes really good care of this ol’ boy, let me tell ya." Irish slapped Gil on the back of the head playfully. The two teenage girls failed to see the humor in the conversation.

"Jeeze Msss. Warren, this is gross; d’ya have to talk about this stuff when we’re trying ta eat?" Ange groused. Syd piped in as she passed the egg, sausage and cheese casserole.

"Ah Ange this ain’t nothin’." I cuffed my kid lightly upside the head.

"Isn’t anything. What’s the matter? Ain’t ya been larned to use proper language?" Syd rolled her eyes.

"Mom that sounds awful." Hello, get a clue.

"Now you know how bad it sounds when you use improper English!" Everyone laughed at my daughter’s embarrassment.

"Anyway Ange. You’re lucky your folks aren’t doctors or nurses. This is mild compared to some of the stuff Mom, Aunt Rachel and Aunt Irish talk about during dinner. Operations and body fluids…" Angie put a stop to Syd’s graphic description.

"Sydnee René McGregor that’s enough! Please, everyone, no more talk about sex and operations while we eat. There are far more pleasant things to discuss. For instance, what do you suppose that interesting object sitting over there might be?" Heads turned en masse to the large canvas covered shape. "Mac honey, why I believe that it yours. Why don’t you do the unveiling?" I knew my angel had to have something to do with this thing, so I forced her to join me in the ‘decanvasing’ of the ‘thingamajig’.

"Sure, c’mere lover, you can help me with this little task, and I’ll bet you prob-ably have something to say before I unmask this…sculpture? Hmmm?" She’s damn cocky for her old age ain’t she?

"Have you been peeking sweetheart?" Becca replied.

"Hon, it doesn’t take a genius to see this is probably something you would be responsible for would it? Besides, you kept me locked out of your studio for months; that isn’t too subtle." Becca leaned over and kissed me chastely on the cheek.

"You’re right. I’ve been working on this for some time. I wanted to give you something that represented both our struggles over the past six months. You’re not the easiest person to buy for, you don’t need much, and you haven’t had to replace any golf clubs since the last time you and Harley went golfing together…" That drew a groan from me and a loud grunt from Harley. Angie patted the older man’s stomach gently. "…and so I came up with this idea. I thought we could put it in the foyer at the trauma center. So without further adieu…" Becca removed the canvas to reveal a beautiful bronze statue. An astonished gasp escaped every mouth seated around the table.

The statue was a life size depiction of a woman slowly rising up and out of a wheelchair with her arm outstretched to another woman wearing a lab coat, with a stethoscope hanging around her neck.

"My God that’s us," I whispered. Really, what was your first clue? Tears immediately poured from my eyes. "Baby, I—I—I don’t know what to say. This is the most beautiful, meaningful gift I have ever received." There was an inscription on the base in the front.

When love exists, there is hope... No obstacle is too great; no pain is too much…

We are one, together for all eternity.

I could say nothing. I simply took my angel, my world into my arms and held her close to me. I whispered only for her ears to hear.

"I will love you forever, my love, my soul belongs to you, and only you."

The party moved down to the beach, and went on most of the day. More guests poured onto the property, and we ate, drank, and played like it was our last day on this earth. And if it were, I’d die happy indeed. I spent most of the day watching Becca and Sydney interacting with our friends and family, eating, playing volleyball, and splashing in the surf. Even Harley and Doug Flannery seemed to be willing to bury the hatchet, not in each other thankfully, and joked and laughed together like they were long lost friends. But, as some sage old soul once said, all good things must come to an end, tomorrow was a work and school day, and the reality was going to in- trude into my world with a thunk come morning.

By eleven o’clock, we waved goodbye to the last of our guests, and Syd didn’t have to be coerced into bed, she went willingly without being asked. Even the whirling dervish herself was plum tuckered out.

"Mom, Mother, I think I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. I’m pretty tired." Syd came over to the couch where my angel and I were lounging, and kissed and hugged me tightly. "Happy birthday mom. I love you." She repeated the pro-cedure with Becca. "G’night mother, I’m so glad your back whole and happy. I love you." She’s a damn good kid ya know that. Of course, she’s a chip off the old block. Yeah, right.

"G’night darlin’, sweet dreams." I pulled my angel down on top of me, so we could snuggle deep into the comfy couch. "Y’know I got up this morning feeling damn sorry for myself cause I thought my life amounted to nothing. The fact that Faraday got out of jail, and my ol’ man didn’t, not that he deserved to, got me thinking I was a failure. Then I thought about you and Syd, and our family and friends, and I realized that I have no right whatsoever to feel sorry for myself. I’m the luckiest woman in the world. And you were right, I can’t give up my fight, or little Casey’s death will have been for nothing." My angel, my soul lifted up and kissed me tenderly.

"I agree with everything you’ve said except for one thing. You’re not the luckiest woman in the world, I am, and I love you so very much. And I want to take you to bed and show you just how much." My love kissed me again passionately, our lips and bodies joined in an embrace of pure love.

"Yes my love, I am yours, to love, to own, to do with as you see fit. Please love me." Becca rose up from the couch with me in her arms, and carried me to our bed. For the next several hours, we reacquainted each other in the ways of true soul connecting love. Bodies moved together as one in an unending dance of love.

On top of a wind swept hill overlooking the beach, a lone dark figure collected his gear and packed everything back in his duffel bag. One step at a time his plans were coming to fruition. The lifestyle of the women sickened him, but then wasn’t it just like a woman, without a man’s guidance; it was so easy for them to go astray.

"I’m sorry I’ve stayed away so long, my love, but that couldn’t be helped. They held me against my will. But soon we will be together, and I will make all this go away."

Chapter 3: The Confrontation

There wasn’t a place on my body that didn’t hurt. My only consolation was that Irish, Rachel, and the gang looked and felt as bad as I did. I felt like I had spent thirty

six hours straight in the unit. My ordinarily hated Monday morning staff meeting was even more hateful. The comptroller, Stan Bernett, droned on and on as only bean counters could. I sat at the head of the conference table as was my wont, and doodled and drew caricatures of members of the staff and my Becca and my daughter Syd. My Hospice Director, could read the boredom etched in my face, I know I didn’t hear two words the moneyman had said. What I really wanted to do was go to the doctor’s lounge and lay down and sleep for several hours and dream. Oh yeah, dream about my angel. We made love for most of the night, I can still smell my lover’s arousal, taste her sweet ambrosia, and feel her teeth and tongue on my aching, throbbing clit. "Oh yes, it feels sooo goooddd…" Fantasy alert! Fantasy alert! Warning!! Warning!! Imminent embarrassment likely!! Warning!! Hey smartass get your head out of your butt.

"Excuse me, Dr. McGregor, did you have something you wanted to say?" Ber- nett questioned. Irish, my new Director of Nursing, just darn near choked on her tongue; she tried so hard not to laugh. Dr. Donnovon wasn’t that discreet; she just went ahead and snorted out loud. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, Diedre came running into the conference room.

"Mac, I—I mean Dr. McGregor, Chief Warren quick; you better get out here! We’ve got big trouble, we need you, now!" My fantasy and subsequent embar-rassment were forgotten, and we all rushed out of the conference room and out onto the unit. There, before my eyes, was the devil himself. The representation of every-thing I associated with pain and torture, in my estimation, pure evil: Arlan Faraday. He was being held by two, big, burly security personnel, but even with that, the small man was still struggling furiously, raving about his rights. Rights my ass; that bastard has no rights. Why don’t you have the security people toss him down the trash shoot, and let the garbage guys haul him off?

"You sons a bitches! Ya got no right ta do this ta me. I gotta right ta see my kid ifin’ I want. Ya can’t…"

I walked slowly up to the man, who instantly stopped his ranting when he saw the malice and pure hatred I held for this man. It was etched clearly in my steely blue eyes, and my features were hard and cold. The rage building up inside me was rapidly coming to a head. I knew deep in my heart and soul I could easily kill this man without a second thought. All the pent up anger and frustration from the years of abuse, I had managed to keep buried deep down inside me, was coming to the surface, and I wanted to let it loose. I wanted to unleash the demons; I wanted to make Faraday feel all the pain and anger all the other abuse victims and I have sustained over the years. He represented everything I hated; I represented every abuse victim who ever suffered from the Faraday’s of the world, and my rage clouded mind rea-soned if I killed Faraday, all this pain and anger would die with him. I took several more steps toward the man until I was nose to nose with the bastard.

Suddenly, I stopped; the stench of death was all over this man. But it wasn’t the smell of Casey’s death, or anyone else’s. No, the death I detected on the man was his own; the man was dying, and he knew it, and what’s more, he knew I knew it too. It was then that I took a good look at the man. All the signs were there: the sickly, gray pallor, the sunken eyes, the haunted gaunt look of a man who was about to meet his maker. I doubt it’s gonna be a very pleasant meeting; I hope God kicks this guy’s sorry butt straight to hell. No argument here. So how we gonna work this? Ya gonna throw his ass outta here? Give me a minute; I’m thinking. Thinking! What’s ta think about? This guy’s scum. I had been practicing medicine for nearly twenty-five years. I’d seen many cancer victims. Hell I even saw my ol’ man die of the disease. Even with all the advances made, in many cases, pancreatic cancer was most often fatal. Even with ‘chemo’, the cancer cells would probably be unaffected, and the patient would die. Most often, it was a slow, painful, tortuous way to go. I’d often said I would never wish this kind of death on my worst enemy, until now. Faraday, now it’s time; now you’re gonna suffer. Paybacks are a bitch ain’t they? Nope, I’m not gonna dirty my hands on you, I’m gonna let God do it, cause I have to believe this is your punishment here on earth for your crimes. I approached the man again, and in my lowest, nastiest, most hateful, mali- cious voice I growled. The people surrounding Faraday and I waited anxiously to see what I was gonna do. I grabbed the man by the shirtfront and lifted him a foot off the floor.

"Listen up you filthy bastard cause I’m only gonna say this one time. I never want to see your stinking, slimy carcass in my Trauma Unit ever again. You will stay away from my family, my friends, and most especially away from Lilli, Ty, and Wanda. If I hear you came anywhere near any of them, I will come find you, in whatever hole you’ve crawled into, and I see to it you die a painful, miserable death. It’ll make dying of cancer feel like a picnic. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" The man nodded weakly.

"Y—ye—ye—sss." I dropped the scumbag to the floor.

"Now go crawl back under the rock you crawled out from under and die, and leave descent people the hell alone." I turned away from the crowd of people, and spoke to Gil.

"Escort that bastard off the premises, and make sure he doesn’t hang around. When you’re sure he’s gone, come into my office, there’s something I want you to take care of for me." My security chief nodded, and left to do my bidding.

I went into my office and slammed the door closed. I walked around my desk and sat down heavily in my high-backed leather chair. I looked around the plush office. I took in all the little personal items I had added over the years that decorated the walls and lined the shelves. I got up and walked over to the shelf where a picture of Syd and Becca on a deep sea fishing boat rested. It was taken during a vacation in Cancun. The two women were looking out over the sea watching two whales cavorting in the waves. Syd stood at the rail, pointing at the huge animals, Becca stood behind our daughter with her arms wrapped around her in a loving, motherly embrace. Involuntarily, a smile curved my lips. She makes ya do that a lot doesn’t she? Hmmm? Smile, Becca makes ya smile, a lot. Yeah she does at that. I sat the picture back to its resting place, and picked up a crystal sculpture of two dolphins arching and flying up out of the water. This was a souvenir from a trip to New Zealand. There were many little things scattered here and there throughout my office that reminded me of happy times in my life spent with my wife and daughter. My mind wandered back to the time twenty years ago while we decorated this office. Discussion?

"Honey, I do not plan on spending a lot of time in here. You know how I hate paperwork, I’ll just pawn it off on someone else?" I knew this argument wouldn’t fly, but it was worth a try. "Frankly, I don’t even know why I need an office. We could spend the money we'd save on some much-needed medical equipment. What d’ya say?" My angel wasn’t moved.

"Stace that is the most cockeyed logic I have ever heard. Of course you need an office. As much as you hate this part of your job, you’re going to have to schmooze occasionally, and you’ll need a place to discuss personnel matters and such privately. There will be interviews for new hires, all kinds of things for which you will need an office." I knew I was going to lose this argument before it even started.

"Yes, that’s true Stacey dear," Angie interjected, "and you’ll need it decorated appropriately to impress medical sales representatives, colleagues from other institu-tions, and countless other people to whom you will be holding court." Holding court? Every now and then, she sounds just like The Admiral. Hey ya can’t hold him against her, she is a Stewart too ya know. But, she shows great potential for positive change. I was brought from my reverie by a gentle knock on my door.

"Yes?" Lilli Faraday, my young resident stuck her head around the door.

"May I talk to you for just a minute. If—if—you—you’re not too busy that is?" Lilli Faraday, Casey’s older sister by two years, and now twenty-six, was in her last year of her residency, and had a position waiting here for her when she graduated, if she wished. She had the makings of a fine doctor, kind of reminds me a little bit of me twenty years ago. Oh hell, that’s a laugh. How can you say that? Lilli is a sweet, caring talented young woman. What part of that description applies to you? I hear Irish calling you; go away.

"Certainly, Lilli I always have time to talk to you. What’s up?" I sat the glass figure back on the shelf, and rearranged Becca and Syd’s picture.

"That’s a very lovely picture. You must be very proud of them both. I can see a lot of love there too." She’s a very bright and perceptive kid.

"Yes, I’m very proud of Becca and Syd. They are my world, and I love them both very much." I watched Lilli for a moment. I could see she was struggling mightily with what she wanted to say. "Please Lilli sit down, and tell me what’s on your mind." I kept watching her and started to move toward my desk, but thought better of it, and came over to the couch, and sat down next to Lilli. Sensitive chats were not my thing, but this conversation looked like that was exactly what this was going to end up being. She was eyeing a bronze sculpture of two nude women intertwined in a passionate embrace.

"Did Mrs. McGregor sculpt that bronze? It looks like her work. I hope one day to be able to afford one of her pieces." You and me both kid. "It’s very beautiful. Are they you and your wife? The two women, I mean?" I hadn’t thought about it before, but yes, they were us. One thing about a nude of two women in my office, it put the kabash on any Medical Sales Reps putting the moves on me. It spoke volumes of where my sexual tastes were directed. It just plain cut down on all the b.s., though there was the occasional jerk that figured all I needed was one night with a real man, and I would be ‘cured’ of my malady. All right enough small talk; let’s get down to brass tax.

"Lilli, I know this morning must have been very upsetting for you, and I’m sorry if I caused you any pain. The man is simply the lowest form of life…" Lilli cut me off. The girl’s got balls, that’s for sure.

"Please, Dr. McGregor, I’m the one who must apologize. It was my stepfather who endangered the patients here, and brought embarrassment to the trauma center. If you want me to resign my residency, I will of course." With that the young girl broke down in tears. Shame and anguish overtook her.

Damn that bastard. How many lives is that son of a bitch going to destroy? This young girl hasn’t had any contact with this scum for twenty-five years or better and she feels obligated to take on that ass hole’s guilt. Does any of this sound familiar to you? Great, now she’s crying. How do I handle this? Just do what you usually do when Becca cries. Usually I try to find out what I did wrong. Comfort dummy, the woman needs comfort. I took the sobbing young woman in my arms and stroked her hair and back.

"Shh, shh. Lilli, you’ll do no such thing. You will not give up your career for that son of a bitch. I won’t allow him to harm you or your mamma or your brother ever again. You are not responsible for his guilt. The things he did are his and his alone to take responsibility for. You are the victim. None of this is your fault. You are not to blame." Doctor heal thyself. Sounds like damn good advice to me. It does doesn’t it? I tilted Lilli’s chin up so I could look into her eyes.

"Lilli promise me you won’t let Arlan Faraday rule your life. He’s not worth the pain and the suffering you’ll go through if you do. Believe me I know; I’ve been there. Now dry your eyes, and get yourself back out on the unit. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of Arlan Faraday. He won’t bother you again, I promise." Throughout our conversation, I hadn’t noticed we had a visitor. Becca silently entered the office. As Lilli walked past her, Becca laid a hand gently on Lilli’s shoulder.

"Lilli trust me, if Stace said she’d take care of everything, believe me, she will. Don’t worry." Lilli nodded and left the office quietly.

"How much of that did you hear?" My baby put her arms around me and kissed me sweetly and tenderly.

"Enough to know how much you care about the people in our lives. Enough to know you are still suffering from abuse that stopped thirty-seven years ago. The man who hurt you is dead and gone. When are you going to bury the pain, anguish, and guilt?" That’s a good question smartass, ya got an answer? No.

"Becca, I’ve been really selfish haven’t I? Putting you through all this garbage since we were kids. I’ve been so unfair to you and Syd. Why do you stay with me? I’m sure you could have found…" I never got to finish my question because two strong arms whirled me around to face a very angry, passionate woman.

"How dare you even say that to me. After all we’ve been through in the last six months, and the twenty-five years before that too. Don’t you remember the vows we made to each other on that beach, and the renewal of our commitment just eight months ago. Please tell me that our relationship isn’t one-sided! Damn you Stace how could you even think such a thing…" Well isn’t that just typical, open mouth insert foot.

"Did it again didn’t I. While trying to tell you how I feel, that you and Syd are my whole world, I stumble and clutz around. I say the wrong thing, hurt you terribly and have to beg your forgiveness…again. That’s been the pattern our whole lives hasn’t it? I screw up, you forgive me, you make me feel better, I screw up again you make me feel better, you make…" Becca stopped me with a kiss.

"Okay, I get the picture. It does seem to be a vicious circle doesn’t it? Don’t you think it’s about time we do something about that?" My angel and I had snuggled down onto the couch and cuddled there, my love lying on top of me. My arms encircling her, stroking her hair and back in loving gentle circles. I knew what was coming next.

"I’m not going to like this am I?" Do you ever?

"Honey, I think you know what we need to do to fix us." My baby kept saying us, but it was me. But the ‘me’ in this deal was affecting the ‘us’ in our relationship. I knew I had to take responsibility for myself and do the right thing, but it was so hard to do.

"Dr. Friar’s office keeps calling Deidre to get me to make an appointment. But with the accident and all the stuff I’d quit going. I think, no I know I need to start seeing her again, but…" Damn, why does this have to be so hard?

"Stace, my love, I think you should start with the sessions again, but I can’t make you do this. You have to do this for you. There is one thing I want you to be very sure of, and that is that I will always be here for you. I’ll love you and support you in every way. I’ll do anything you want; all you have to do is ask. Please baby, I just want you to stop hurting." However did I find you? You slammed the ‘jarine’s’ precious Harley with a baseball. Like you do everything else, dumb luck.

"Sweetheart there is one thing. I don’t think I can do this alone. The memories…they’re just too much…but is it fair to subject you to that too? I don’t know how to ask this, but would…I…I…need you—oh hell." My angel put me out of my misery.

"Baby would you like me to go with you to your therapy sessions?" Damn, why do I feel like that twelve-year-old kid Sis Liz used to always be able to intimidate? Probably because you…Don’t even say it. Meekly, timidly, I lifted my eyes to meet my angel’s. Instead of revulsion, I saw only love and concern.

"Yes…please, would you? I love and need you so much." As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears that began to fall. "God I’m so tired of crying and feeling like shit. Why did I wait so long to do something about this?" My lover took my face in both her hands and kissed away my tears. She placed tender butterfly kisses all over my face: my eyes, cheeks, and lips.

"I don’t know honey. Maybe it took this long because you didn’t feel bad enough to do anything to make you feel better. Some people have to hit rock bottom before they do anything to help themselves. Some people can’t function at all when they feel bad, but you never got to that point. I don’t know what to tell you. Hopefully Dr. Friar can tell you." God I hope so. It’s time I got control of my life again…again. I never had control of my life. Another light knock sounded at the door.

"Come." Deidre poked her head around the door. "Yes Deidre, what’s up?" Timidly, she entered the office. It’s amazing how carefully people act around me at times. "C'mon Deidre, I won’t bite." Since when?

"Umm, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Mrs. Randall is here to see you about the charity dinner at the Fine Arts Center next week. I told her you were in an impor- tant… conference… and couldn’t be disturbed. Becca snickered loudly, and circled my belly with her fingers, straying to places she shouldn’t go. I slapped her hand to stop things from getting carried away.

"It’s okay Deidre, thank you. Have old ‘Randy’ Randall come in, and we’ll get this over with." Deidre left and Becca looked at me with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Randy Randall, what’s up with that.’’ I kissed my angel playfully, and walked around my desk and sat down.

"Are you kidding me? Haven’t you ever gotten a good whiff of that perfume she wears, and I use the term ‘perfume’ loosely. Just hang around, you’ll see what I mean." Becca just shook her head and Mrs. Harriett Randall entered the room.

"You’re mean." What was your first clue darlin’? Shut up.

Chapter 4: Dr. Mac Amateur Sleuth

God, don’t ya wonder just how some people manage to get through each day without help even with the smallest things, you know like tying their shoes. Harriett Randall falls into that category. Well y’know, God looks after fools and children. Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than smart. Besides, didn’t ya notice? ‘Randy’ wears slip on’s. My God, a little bit of that woman goes a long way. Thankfully, my angel came to my rescue, and took the irritating woman, with her, to visit Catherine Gregory, Public Relations/ Infor- mation Director, who we affectionately called the center’s ‘social director’. I knew between Becca and Cath, ol’ ‘Randy’ wouldn’t know what hit her. Ol’ ‘Randy’ is just a little outclassed; do ya think that’s fair. No, but I don’t care; she’s outta my hair. No doubt. With those thoughts rolling around in my head, Gil stuck his head in the door.

"Mac ya got a minute? What’s got you chuckling? A little afternoon delight?" I waved him into the office, and he stretched his long frame out in the chair opposite me. I couldn’t help but notice the slight paunch the middle-age man was developing. Note to self: increase workout sessions to two and half-hours, four days a week. What’s the matter gettin’ worried? No, preventative medicine. Irish must be feeding Gil pretty well.

"Is that all you think Becca and I do is rut around in my office? I am a profes- sional y’know. ‘Sides, Mrs. Randall came in and interrupted a really good beginning, which is why I’m chuckling. Becca took the poor woman down to she Cath to work on the Fine Arts shin dig." I chuckled again.

"Y’know Mac, you and Becca have a really evil streak in ya when ya want to." Yeah, ain’t it fun?

"So what did you find out?" The jovial atmosphere took on a much somber tone, and my security chief told me what I wanted to know.

"I talked to Gerry in Baltimore…" Officer Gerald Smith, an old friend from my John Hopkin’s days, and Gil’s old partner, was now Captain Gerald Smith. He had worked his way up from a beat cop to a precinct captain, and was recognized around the country for his excellent record for cleaning up crime in his precinct. He had earned the Medal of Honor for his work combating organized crime. President Clinton presented Gerry the medal as part of his campaign in the war on drugs. Because of Gerry’s work, Gino Maletti, a top crime boss, who operated on the East Coast, was arrested and convicted. Maletti controlled just about every illegal activity you could imagine from drug smuggling to prostitution to racketeering.

"…and he passed on some really interesting information." I held up my hand to stop the Chief. I picked up the phone and dialed my personal secretary’s desk.

"Deidre, please hold all my calls. I’m in the middle of a very important meeting." Then, "…is she alone?" A pause, "Okay, send her in." The door opened, and Becca entered and greeted Gil warmly.

"Hi Gil, how are you this afternoon? As pooped as the rest of us." The big man nodded.

"You bet, I’m getting to damned old for these all night orgies." I had to admit I wasn’t too sure I could stand too many weekend blowouts either.

"What’s going on? What are you two plotting now?" Becca came around the desk, and sat on the arm of my chair, and I automatically wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Mac asked me to look into Faraday’s release a little more closely. We were both curious to see if there was more to his release than just a few bleeding heart liberals whinin’. What Gerry had to tell me was pretty interesting, and he’s still digging, and he’ll get me more info when he has it. It seems that while Faraday was in jail, he cozied up to one Gino Maletti. Any dirty little job, in the joint that needed to be done, Faraday was more than willing to take care of for Maletti. And Maletti’s attorney handled Faraday’s last parole hearing." The gears were starting to grind.

"When I was at that hearing, I thought that lowlife’s attorney looked familiar. Now I know why." The television coverage of the crime boss’s trial seemed to go on and on. Between he and O.J., there was nothing else on the idiot box. Something smells here. Yeah, big time. Gil continued.

"What we haven’t figured out yet is does Faraday’s sudden appearance here cover some hidden agenda, or is it just coincidence." Becca just didn’t get the connection.

"I don’t understand why Maletti would be interested in us personally. Unless…" I stopped my lover in mid-thought.

"Wait a minute. The night they brought Casey into the ER, we were really busy. We had several patients with gunshot wounds. The police just assumed it was a drive by shooting. John Hopkin’s was the closest hospital to where the victims were found, so they brought them there. With everything that happened that night, and my preoc-cupation with Casey, I didn’t give them much thought. But I did work on one of the gunshot victims. I remember later reading something in the papers about a big mob shake up. But I don’t remember all the details. Maybe there is a connection there?" Becca wasn't convinced the shootings were anything more than coincidence.

"I still don’t get it. The only reason Faraday would have any contact with us at all would is because of Lilli. And only then because she works here. Why would the mob be involved with anything between Faraday and us?" Gil didn’t want to voice what he was thinking, but no possibility could be overlooked.

"There is one other thing. Mac, Faraday swore at his trial, as they were dragging the bastard out, that he’d get even with you for ruining his life. More than anything else, it was your testimony that put that son of a bitch away. He always said he’d find a way, maybe he finally has…" A contract?

"Gil you’re not thinking what I think you are…a contract…on me?" That’s ridiculous. "Where would Faraday get the money to hire a hit man?" Now Becca had it figured out.

"Maybe he didn’t have to; maybe someone else footed the bills." Both Gil and I looked at each other. Gil’s police trained mind was working overtime.

"Suppose Faraday took care of some business for Maletti, and instead of cash, Faraday wanted a favor. The one thing Faraday wants to see more than anything else before he checks out, is your death. Maletti has the resources to organize and execute a hit. It wouldn’t be the first time a crime boss operated with impunity from behind bars. All Faraday wants is to be around when the hit takes place so he can watch." This whole thing was way too farfetched for me.

"Jesus Gil, you’ve been watching too many old gangster movies. The man may be nuts, but a hit…I don’t think so." The look of absolute sheer terror on my baby’s face moved me beyond all reason. I pulled her into my lap and held her close to me, trying to reassure her this was all just speculation, and we were probably making mountains out of molehills. But still… "Okay, Gil check it out, and see if you can keep an eye on Faraday, if for no other reason than to keep Wanda, Lilli, and Ty safe. In fact see if you can get a hold of Ty and see if his stepfather has tried to contact him." Gil nodded, and got up to do my bidding. He could see how upset my angel was from all this mess.

"Listen Becca, don’t worry, if you stop and think about it, we have a small army to protect you, Syd, and Mac. Between your dad, Gary, and me, Faraday hasn’t got a chance to get near any of you. And believe me, we still have contacts, and I’ve got a lot of markers I can call in, and don’t think for a minute I won’t hesitate to do everything in my power to get to the bottom of this." Gil kissed Becca on top of the head, much the same way a father would to calm a frightened child, and then left. Christ, things just keep getting better and better.

Clear across town, in a seedy bar in East LA, a scrawny, sickly looking man nursed a warm beer. The man had been waiting for some time for his contact. After another couple of warm beers, the door opened, and a tall dark man entered the bar. He was dressed from head to toe in black letter. He had dark hair, eyes, and a neatly trimmed goatee. The man would have been considered handsome if it weren’t for the ugly scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to his chin. An injury incurred in some biker brawl no doubt. The black leather vest revealed a muscular chest covered with soft black hair. His left biceps sported a tattoo of skull and cross bones. Yes indeedy, this guy was a real charmer. He swaggered up to the thin gaunt man, and sat down at the table across from him.

A couple ho’s strutted up to the man and draped themselves all over the man. Without preamble, he simply ripped open the red head’s halter-top and began feasting on the woman’s generous tits. With his other hand he groped the bleach blonde’s center, tearing away her panties, and thrusting three fingers unceremoniously up into the woman’s pussy. He continued sucking and biting the red head’s tits, and took the nipple of the neglected one and pulled and twisted it savagely. The woman straddled his leather-clad thigh, and ground her sex fiercely until she climaxed. The blonde continued to hump herself on the man’s fingers moaning in pleasure and pain. After he had serviced both women to their satisfaction, he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean. Faraday, even then he was repulsed from the display, never moved an inch, nor did any of the other patrons in the bar.

"Hmmm, I’ll be wanting more of that. Both of you get upstairs, and get ready for me, I’ll be there soon. I have business to attend to." The two women turned and headed up the stairs. "So you have what I need?" Faraday nodded and slid an envelope across the table. The man opened it and leafed through the stack of bills. Satisfied, he stood up and addressed Faraday, his voice cold and menacing. "We won’t be meeting again." Faraday was furious.

"That’s not the way this works. The deal is I get to watch…" In an instant, a huge leather encased hand had Faraday by the throat. The words were a sibilant hiss. "You’ll do as your told. I could just as easily snap your worthless neck as look at you. Don’t forget that. Now get out of my sight."

The early morning light filtered through the torn dirty curtains of the room. The bodies of the two prostitutes lay in their own blood, their throats cut from ear to ear.

"They made me do this. I don’t want to kill…my love. They made me do it; they aren’t pure. You were taken from me; she has corrupted you, and now she must die. Then I will purify you, and then we will be together again. We were destined to be together. You belong to me; you always have; you always will. Soon…Rebecca... very soon.

Well didn’t this take a nasty turn? What do you think? Want more. Let me know. As always, your constructive criticism is welcome as long as it’s tactful. Later! Fantasy.