For a while, I was able to turn my mind off everything and just go through the motions of life. As long as I kept moving, as long as I kept working, as long as I filled my mind with the thousands of details that needed to be taken care of each day, the feelings of desperation stayed in their place. It was better to be numb than to be out of control. It was better to function partially than not at all. So I focused increasingly on my work. If I could just focus on that one thing, maybe the rest of my miserable life would disappear. And it worked. Everything outside of my work became a burden, a waste of time. It took so much of my energy that I couldn't see anything around me any more, not even Max.

Max was not willing to accept that from me. She accused me of only caring about strangers. She was right, of course. It was easier to think about the anonymous masses out there because the ones nearby took too much effort. It was easier to be aloof and remote. Strangers don't know that you don't really have anything to give them, that your soul is empty. You save their lives, you give them some cash, you provide a new identity, but you don't really give any of yourself. They don't know that you are screaming inside, a person just like them, desperate for escape. They can't see the anger and the despair in your heart. To them, you are just an eccentric idealist, an anonymous benefactor. Max, on the other hand, is no anonymous benefactor. Everything she does is personal. It's the people closest to her that she cares about most, Cindy, Kendra, Zack and me. She will risk her own safety to protect any one of us. She proved that again when she rescued Matt and I from the mess I put us in.

I was so obsessed with bringing down Gerhardt Bronck I didn't even consider the possibility that Bronck could track us down, or how much danger I was subjecting Matt to. I sat there in that abandoned airplane hanger, confident that I was seeing the end of Eyes Only. I knew that, some day, this career that I have chosen would kill me. It was inevitable. Sometimes I even felt that sooner would be better than later. Then I would be finished with this life of mine. I was not surprised that the day had arrived. I was only sorry that I had put Matt into that position. I tried to deflect Bronck's attention from Matt onto myself, but Bronck didn't buy it. He realized that it didn't matter what he did to me, that my own life was not that important to me. But he knew that I would give him anything he wanted to prevent him from hurting Matt. In the end, I was powerless to protect Matt. If Max had not returned when she did, we would both have been dead. Max rescued me once again. She reached out her hand once again, and I grabbed onto it once again.

It turns out that I was wrong about so many things. I was completely wrong about Bronck's operation. He wasn't stealing our city's blood he was stealing our lifeblood. How could we ever have hope for this city if our children aren't protected? I was also completely wrong about what I should have been doing. I was trying to hide from reality and bury all my frustrations in my work, but all I succeeded in doing was putting all of us at risk. Now I realize that I can't avoid reality no matter how much I want to. Max asked me to be more open for her, so I have been. I have tried to show her that I appreciate her friendship. We had that missed dinner the next evening, and we have had many since then. But I was right when I jokingly told her the world would still be broken in the morning. It was. The world is still broken and so am I.

In spite of everything Bling says, I will still be trapped in this half dead body of mine. Bling is still living in his dream world of visualization exercises and mind over matter. I told him once that my legs will never work again, but he cut me off. He is not willing to recognize the reality of my situation. What is he afraid of? The truth? I don't even bother to argue with him any more. I just turn my mind off and let him go through his little routine. It won't make a difference either way.

Sometimes I wonder why Max bothered to rescue me. Why did she have to pull me back into reality? My reality has now come back to haunt me. The blackness that I had so effectively shut out for a few days has started to creep in again. I am trying so hard to fight it, but it is a losing battle. Max doesn't understand the price I'm paying to do this. She doesn't understand what I am fighting against. No one does. She comes by for dinner, chess and some light conversation. She makes me smile for a few minutes and then she breezes out of here as if she doesn't have a care in the world. I don't know how she can do it. How does she keep from getting buried under all the crap in her life? I can't do it.

At least, I have one thing to look forward to. Mayor Steckler is finally up on indictment for his role in the cortodiazapine crisis. It's rumored that there is a witness that will guarantee his indictment. If that witness exists, and he is in the hands of witness protection, the probability is slim to none that he will stay alive to testify. After what they allowed to happen to Lauren, Peter and myself, I will never trust witness protection again. We will have to find this witness and make some alternative arrangements for his safety. I've already put some feelers out on the informant net. It appears that I will be spending this year dealing with the fallout of last year's catastrophes. Maybe I will be able to correct a few things, but sadly there are some things that can never be repaired.