Exiting the room, Dr Maynard found Braxton waiting outside. “How did it go?”

“There's some blood in her abdomen, but not enough to warrant surgery. I'm going to do another ultrasound in an hour and see if there's any change. Let's see if the nurses will let us use their lounge for a few minutes. I want to talk to you about something. Don't worry – she's asleep. She will be fine without you for a bit.”

When they were sitting in the nurse's lounge – there were only two on duty overnight and neither was on break – Gideon told Braxton about his exchange with Marissa. “I can admit her involuntarily now”, he said when he was finished. “She admitted to wanting to die.”

“Not directly”, Braxton replied.

“Saying it's her ticket out is close enough.”

“She was sleepy due to effects of the anesthesia. It would never fly. Besides, you can't admit her involuntarily for refusing a procedure or treatment for any disease, no matter what her reason – if she's of sound mind - and I believe she is.”

“I have to do something, Braxton!”

“Let her come home with me. Make it a condition of her release if you want. I will talk to her and see if I can get her to tell me more.”

“I don't know...”

“I got her to consent to the biopsy, didn't I?”

“True.” After another moment of hesitation, Dr Maynard said “Okay. But she has to stay with you until I say she can go home.”

“That is fine.”

“She has to agree.”

“She will.”

“And after she has time to recover from her surgery, she needs to see a therapist. She can't see you now that you've crossed boundaries with her.”

“I haven't crossed boundaries as she's not my patient.”

“You know what I mean. You've established a friendship and therefore you cannot be her therapist.”

“I know that. But I will do what I can to get her to open up. As a friend.”

“Let's hope you succeed. She's way too young to die from something that is treatable.”

The next day, Marissa was released. Dr Maynard did an ultrasound every couple hours and there was no further bleeding, so he said she could be released into Braxton's care. She agreed to stay with him, but she would not agree to see a therapist. Maynard realized that was not enough to keep her involuntarily. He gave Braxton a sheet of symptoms to watch for and told him to call him if Marissa experienced any of them.

Before she left, a nurse showed both her and Braxton how to flush her IV line and hook up the antibiotic to it – it would be delivered to Braxton's home in bottles somewhat resembling baby bottles. Each bottle was one dose. She was to have two doses a day, 12 hours apart for five days, then see Ryan after that.

On the way to his place, Braxton stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few things. Marissa chose to wait in the car, even though the store had wheelchairs and electric carts for people who needed them. She took the opportunity to call Brian. He was happy to hear she was out of the hospital but not happy to hear she was going to be staying with her new friend for two weeks.

“I don't have a choice, Brian. I had to agree to it or they would have kept me in.”

“Why, June?”

“Because of the infection in my arm. My friend has to do my IV antibiotics twice a day. I cannot do that myself.”

“How long will you be on them?”

“Five days, then I have to see the surgeon. If the infection hasn't cleared up by then, I'll have to stay on them longer. I had to promise I would stay with my friend until my doctor clears me to go home. I can't dress or bathe myself right now.”

“I don't know how long I can let you stay there, June. We may have to come get you. I will try to at least give you the five days you need for the medication. Is your friend helping you with things you can't do yourself?”

“He ….ooops.”

“June, I know who your friend is. You don't have to hide his gender or his name.”

“You do?”

“Yes. His name is Braxton Jagger and he's a psychologist with his own practice.” He went on to state Braxton's home and business addresses.

“How do you know?”

“We can find out pretty much anything we want to, June. Do you really think I'd let you stay with him without knowing who he is?”

“I can't do this anymore, Brian!” Marissa blurted out.

“You can't do what?”

“This! Working for you! I can't take any more!”

“What brought this on? The beating Tomas gave you?”

“Yes. Partly.”

“He has been dealt with. I don't think he will be doing it to anyone else. We have transferred him, though, so you won't see him again. June, you know you can't quit, right? That there would be consequences?”

“I know.” She sighed.

“What else is bothering you?”

“Coming home from trips.” She could never bring herself to call them what they were – drug runs.

“The preparation?”

“And after I get home.” She was referring to having to expel the capsules while her escort waited and then having to clean them (the capsules) up.

“I get it, Marissa. I've been there.”

“You have?”

“Yes. We all have. Everyone in the organization started out doing trips. So I know what it feels like. But if you work hard and don't give us any trouble, you can advance.”

“What you mean by 'advance'?”

“Move up in the organization. I went from doing trips to being an escort, then teaching new workers and now I'm a supervisor. You can do it, too, if you want.”

“How, Brian?”

“By doing what you've been doing. Do your job without complaint and be good at it. You are doing great, June. You've never given me any trouble. Look at it this way – you are on a vacation of sorts for a few weeks. That will give you a break. If we transfer you, you can't go on trips right now anyway.”

“What's happening with that? Transferring, I mean?”

“I don't know. We're lying low for now, but I will let you know if we are going to send you somewhere else. You take care and keep in touch.”

Braxton appeared a few minutes after Marissa finished her call to Brian. “I'm sorry for taking so long. It's nuts in there”, he apologized.

“It's okay.” Her voice had a listless tone.

“What's wrong, Marissa? Are you in pain?” She was sitting hunched over, holding her casted arm to her abdomen. She nodded in response to the second question. Braxton leaned over and put his arm around her shoulders. With his other hand, he pushed some hair off her face. She looked at him and he saw her eyes were watery. “I'm sorry, I should have taken you home first. I will give you your pain medication as soon as we get there, okay?” She nodded.

At his place, he got her settled on the sofa, then gave her her pills. “I think I'd like to have a nap”, she said after taking them.

“Let me change the bed.”

“Oh, no, you don't need to. I only slept on it one night.”

“I'm putting you in the master bedroom. It has an ensuite bathroom just steps from the bed. This way you don't have to walk so far on just one crutch if you have to get up in the night. Besides, I know how you women are about bathrooms and I'm a bachelor – I'm not exactly a neat freak.”

“I don't want to put you out of your bed.”

“I don't mind. A bed is a bed. I'm not particularly attached to mine. Besides, it's not often I can say there's a pretty woman in my bed”, he said with a wink. Marissa blushed.

She slept for just over four hours. When she woke up, she went to the bathroom, then slowly made her way down the hall. Something smelled good.

“Hey, sleepy head”, Braxton greeted her when she reached the living room. “You should have hollered. I'd have brought you out in the wheelchair.”

“It's okay”, she said as she sat down on the sofa. “It's not that far.”

“I don't want to take away your independence, but if it becomes too much, you let me know. Supper is almost ready. I hope you like tuna casserole.”

“I do.”

“I wanted to make something that you could eat without worrying about cutting meat. I wouldn't have a problem doing it for you, but I didn't know how you'd feel about that.”

“I wouldn't mind, but you don't need to cook for me. I'm fine with just some crackers or a peanut butter sandwich.”

“I need to cook for myself anyway, so it's not a problem. And you need to eat more than just some crackers or a sandwich.”

“Seriously, Braxton – don't get me used to meals. It will make it harder to go back to my apartment.”

“I know you find cooking too hard given your limitations, but I'm hoping I can help you come up with some solutions.”

“Such as?”

“Moving to an apartment that is 'accessible', with lower counters and cupboards. I would be willing to help you with packing up and moving.”

“Braxton, that is sweet of you, but I don't know.”

“If you are worried about inconveniencing me, don't be. I would love to help.”

“Well, maybe.”

“Will you at least think about it, Marissa? It would help you live healthier if you could cook proper meals for yourself.”

“Okay, I will think about it.” She knew it was never going to happen as she was probably going to be transferred, but she thought it might be a good idea to look for such an apartment when she got to wherever she was sent.

That night, she had another dream about Tomas beating the tar out of her. This time, she didn't wake Braxton as she didn't scream, just tossed about a bit. She hoped this was a sign that the dreams were going to end, but no such luck. The night after, she had two. The second one was a really bad one and she was awake even before Braxton got to her room. She sat up just as he was coming through the door, tying up the belt of his bathrobe.

“Another nightmare?” he asked as he sat down on the bed. She nodded. He wrapped his arms around her. She couldn't help it, she started crying. “What are these dreams about? The beating?” She nodded again. “Marissa, you have to talk about it – if not with me, then with someone else.”

“No, I can't!” she exclaimed, hitting him in his upper chest with the fist of what was currently her only good hand. It wasn't a hard blow, she was just frustrated and he understood this.

“Can't or won't?”

“Can't. Braxton, when will these dreams stop?” she asked, looking him in the eye.

“When you feel safe. And you probably won't feel safe until the person who did this has been charged or you have had therapy to deal with what has happened to you.”

“Braxton, please don't ask me to call the police.”

“Why not?”

“I can't involve them.”

“For goodness sake, Marissa. Why not? I've tried to be patient with you, but ….”

“They will kill my family! I can't, I can't, I can't!” she wailed, meaning she couldn't involve law enforcement.

“Do you know this for a fact?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, you are getting too wound up. I'll drop it. You need to relax and get back to sleep.”

“I'm going to stay up and read or something.”

“You need your sleep Marissa.”

“I'm never sleeping again – ever!” she cried, knowing full well she couldn't keep that vow.

Braxton laughed. “You know you can't stay awake forever. I'm going to get you a glass of warm milk, that will help you relax.”

After Marissa drank the milk, he pulled the covers over her and picked up the spare blanket from the bottom of the bed before lying down behind her. Putting his arm around her, being careful of her broken wrist, he said “Go to sleep, we'll talk more tomorrow.”

The next day, he tried to talk to her at breakfast about seeing a therapist about her dreams. She flatly refused, knowing she could not talk about them without talking about the beating Tomas gave her and then she'd have to tell the therapist how she knew him and why he did that to her. While he was at work, she called Brian and told him about the nightmares and about Braxton wanting her to get therapy for them. He agreed with her that she couldn't go to just any therapist but he told her that the organization had psychologists on the payroll that they could trust, but there were none in Denver. He said that he would ask around to find one that would do therapy with her over the phone or Internet and he assured her that the organization would handle the extra charges, since it was their employee that put her in that situation. Marissa asked him to email her instead of calling when he had some information for her. Braxton didn't work 9-5, sometimes he had later appointments, other times he'd be finished his day by supper time, so she didn't want to take the chance her boss would call when he was home.

That night, after he'd hooked up her infusion, Braxton asked her how she was feeling. She told him her wrist was still hurting a lot, but that the pain in her back was lessening. She still had a few days of pain medication and she was seeing Ryan, the surgeon, on Thursday for a follow-up. She hoped that he'd give her some more. Braxton said he had re-arranged a couple sessions so that he could take her to the appointment. “How are you feeling emotionally?” he asked.

“I talked to my boss today and he's going to arrange for a therapist for me to talk to by phone or Internet”, she replied.

“I can take you to see him or her in person, Marissa.”

“No, you are doing so much for me as it is, Braxton. Besides, I'd rather do it this way. I think it would be more comfortable for me than being in an office.” She couldn't very well tell him that the therapist would be in a different city. That would invite the question of why couldn't she see one in Denver.

“Okay, Marissa. I'm just glad you've finally agreed to talk to someone. This will make Gideon Maynard happy, too. And you know you can talk to me if you decide to, though I can't be your therapist. But I can listen and offer a bit of advice if you want it. In fact, I have some relaxation techniques that might help you sleep better. The first thing is no caffeine in the evenings. I know you like your coffee but it should be decaf after mid afternoon or so. I'll heat up some milk for you before you go to bed tonight.”

She didn't tell him that she had no intention of talking to the therapist about her tumour. He did not need to know that. Neither did Dr Maynard, as far as she was concerned. She only needed to buy enough time until the Cartel transferred her, if they did indeed send her somewhere else. She didn't know what she'd do if they didn't – Braxton knew where she lived, so she couldn't hide unless she moved within the city and changed identities. She hated the thought of hiding from him, but she couldn't let her oncologist force her into treatment. This tumour was her ticket out of the Cartel without her family getting killed.