Beth sniffed. "You smell like smoke. I thought there was no fire."

"It's cigarettes." Her wide eyes startled a small smile from him. "Not mine." Murphy had smoked a whole pack on the way over, abandoning the carrot sticks. Reed couldn't blame him. "Thanks for the shirt." He shrugged into it, saying nothing when Beth stepped up to do the buttons. There was no way he'd have been able to do it himself.

A doctor walked in, his face carefully expressionless and Reed's heart stopped in his chest. She's dead. Beth squeezed his hand and Mia's friend Dana came to her feet, pale. Trembling. Her husband Ethan rose, holding her up.

"I'm looking for Detective Mitchell's family."

"I'm her sister," Dana said and pointed to Reed. "He's her fiance."

The doctor nodded wearily. "Then come with me."

Ignoring the shocked looks, Reed followed the doctor and the Buchanans into a smaller room. The doctor gestured to some chairs, then shut the door. "She's alive."

"Oh, God." Dana crumpled against her husband. Buchanan lowered his wife into one of the chairs and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

"But?" Reed said. He was still standing. He owed Mia that much.

"The bullet did a lot of damage. There are a number of internal injuries, but the most serious one was to her right kidney. We had to remove it."

Reed sat down now. He looked at Dana, her eyes huge against her pale face, and knew she understood the true meaning behind the doctor's words. But Ethan Buchanan did not. "So? She has another. You only need one, right?"

"She only had one," Reed said woodenly. He wanted to throw something. But he reined it in. "So," he said. "What now?"

"She's not out of the woods yet. She lost a lot of blood and she's still unstable. We'll know more in a day. But if she survives, she'll need to consider the options."

"Dialysis or donation," Reed said. "Test me. I'll give her one of mine."

The doctor's look was kind. "Family would have a better chance of being a match."

Dana looked uncomfortable. "Test me, but we're… adopted sisters."

"And my wife's pregnant," Buchanan added.

The doctor blew out a breath. "I see."

"She has a mother and a biological sister," Dana said.

Now the doctor looked uncomfortable. "Her mother refused to be tested."

Reed's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"I'm sorry. Mrs. Mitchell is conscious and has refused."

But Dana looked sadly unsurprised. "Her sister Kelsey is at Hart Women's Prison."

"Not anymore. She was moved. Spinnelli knows where." Reed met Dana's eyes. "And there's Olivia."

Dana nodded, slowly. "Let's check Kelsey first. Mia told me what happened between her and Olivia. She may not be receptive right now."

"It doesn't have to be now," the doctor inserted. "She can survive on dialysis."

"But she won't be a cop anymore," Reed said flatly.

The doctor shook his head. "Not a homicide detective anyway. Maybe a desk job."

Reed swallowed. It's what I am, she'd said. "I think she'd rather die."

The doctor patted Reed's shoulder. "Don't do anything drastic right now."

The doctor left and Reed pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I wish I'd shot the bastard when I had the chance. I was trying to save her mother, goddammit."

"And now she won't even be tested," Ethan murmured.

"She's a bitter woman," Dana said quietly. "But Mia wouldn't have wanted you to do anything differently, Reed. I'll get in touch with Kelsey. She'll donate. She loves Mia." She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry about the fiance thing. I figured you'd want to be able to see her and they wouldn't let you otherwise." Her lips curved, but her eyes were devastated. "It worked in the movies."

Reed huffed a tired, mirthless chuckle. "Congratulations on the baby. Mia told me." As they'd sat on stakeout last night, waiting for Kates to appear.

Dana's eyes filled then. "She has to get better. She's going to be the godmother."

"She told me that. too. She can't wait."

Dana blinked the tears away. "Hormones," she muttered. "I have to go home for a little while to get things set up with the woman who's watching our kids. I'll be back later when Mia's awake. Don't let anyone tell her about this until I get back, okay?"

Reed felt like crying himself, but he nodded. "Okay. For now we just tell the others that she's out of surgery. And we wait."

She took his hands as she'd done the day they'd met. "And we pray."

Tuesday, December 5, 7:25 a.m.

"How is she?" Dana murmured. Reed started to get up, but she pushed him back into the chair at Mia's bedside in ICU.

What seemed like a hundred tubes ran from her body and her face was as white as the sheets.

"The same." She hadn't stirred since they'd wheeled her from recovery. "The doctor says some of her not waking up may be exhaustion from the last week and from coming back to work too early after the last injury."

Dana brushed at the hair on Mia's forehead lovingly. "Our girl has a hard head. Can't tell her anything."

The bullet would have bounced off your damn hard head, Jack had said. Sometimes I wish you weren't bulletproof. And she wasn't. "The last thing she said was that I should have let her keep her dogtags. I'm not a superstitious man, but I'm wondering if she was right"

"Remind me to smack you," Dana said mildly. "The dog-tags needed to go and I'm grateful you convinced her of that. Reed, she's a cop. She put herself in dangerous positions every day. Superstition has nothing to do with this. Have you had any rest?"

"Some." Dana's eyes were serene. Calming. "Why will her mother not be tested?"

"Annabelle always blamed her daughters for everything. If they'd been sons, life would have been different, she thought. If they'd been sons, Bobby Mitchell would have found another reason to be abusive. It was who he was. Kelsey and Mia paid the price."

"Does she love her mother?"

Dana lifted a shoulder. "I think she feels obligated. You're trying to find some sense in a senseless thing. That if she loved her mother despite everything, that your actions would be somehow more justified. That's not how it works."

"You sound like a shrink," he muttered and she laughed softly.

"Go get some sleep, Reed. I'll sit with her and I'll call you as soon as she wakes up. I promise." She waited until he'd heaved himself to his feet before handing him a bag from the bookstore. "I found this in my living room. She brought a book to Jeremy on Sunday and left this behind. It's for you." One side of her mouth lifted. "It wasn't her normal reading material so I peeked inside. Make sure you read the note."

He waited until he was back in his hotel room, alone for the first time since… since Saturday night, he realized. When he sat in his living room and realized she made him happy. She'd wake up. She had to. He couldn't believe anything else.

He drew the book from the bag and frowned. It was poetry. Hard-assed, sarcastic verse by a guy named Bukowski. It was titled Love Is a Dog from Hell. He drew a breath and opened to the note she'd penned. Like everything else, Mia's handwriting was open, sprawling and messy.

It's not my heart. More like my spleen. But my own words are awkward and this guy says what I feel. Maybe I like poetry after all.

Not her heart? Oh. He closed his eyes, remembering. The night she'd seen the ring around his neck. He'd been reading Christine's book of poetry. When he woke, it was on his nightstand. Mia must have read Christine's inscription. Now Christine's book filled with lyrical beauty was gone and in his hands he held a new book of raw, passionate, sometimes angry words. But the sentiment touched him deep and as he sat reading the book she'd chosen, he finally let the tears he'd held back for days fall.