Chapter 29

After being checked out by numerous doctors, Brady was deemed fit to go home. Of course, the fact that he argued with every nurse within ten feet and broke every rule in the book had nothing to do with his early discharge. Right!

"Are we all set?" Chloe asked, checking to see if they had missed anything.

"Yep! Let's get the hell out of here," Brady laughed, plopping himself into the wheelchair. He readjusted his leg that was covered in a cast with his good arm and secured it to the fold out holder. His shoulder and arm were still weak, and he was beginning to get skeptical as to whether it would ever heal right. It would take time, the doctors had told him, but he should get full mobility from it eventually. Brady hated words like ""eventually"" and ""should,"" but that's all he had to go on, and he was too excited about being able to go home to worry about things like that today.

Chloe laughed at his obvious enthusiasm and wheeled the chair down the hallway and out the door. Brady frowned at the rented mini-van and wished he could ride his motorcycle. Chloe watched his face and smiled. "It's not that bad," she scolded.

"Yeah, but you could have at least got a cool colour. Who likes pea green anyway?"

"Some people do, Brady."

"Yeah, people in insane asylums that like to cut people up and eat them."

"Brady!" she laughed and hit him on the shoulder, forgetting his injury and instantly regretted it as she watched his back muscles flex, sure he was wincing. "I'm sorry."" She flushed.

"It's okay," he breathed. "You'll just have to make up for it later." He winked coyly at her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They arrived at the loft, and it was already dark. Despite Brady's jovial attitude, she could see his injuries were weighing on him. "Are you tired?" Chloe asked, helping him into bed.

Brady nodded, but smiled at her nonetheless. Chloe propped his leg onto a pillow and smoothed down the sheets. She moved to the side of the bed and began to unbutton his shirt. "I can do that myself, you know," he laughed.

"I know, but I like doing things for you. And besides, this way I get to touch you." She smiled.

Brady turned his head, frowning slightly.

"What's wrong? What did I say?"

"It's nothing," he replied, trying to mask his own insecurities. Sure, he had been released from the hospital, and yes, they had told him that more than likely he would recover. But there was still a part of himself that felt weak and ashamed for letting her help him. He was a strong man, with pride, and having her cater to him was not helping to rebuild his ego. It was bad enough that he had barely protected her in the first place, and now here he was, a former shell of himself, needing constant attention and care. It simply was not fair.

"Don't! Don't do that!" Chloe said angrily.

"Don't do what?"

"Shut down. Don't revert back to your old ways, Brady. I know you hate having to rely on anyone, but this is me, Brady. You say you love me, so let me help you."

"I know, Chloe, and you're right. It's just..."

"Hard?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, blowing out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"I understand, probably better than anyone. And I'm not going anywhere. I WON''T abandon you." She softened her tone. "It's just for a little while. You'll be back on your feet in a little while. You'll see."

Brady nodded but did not say anything. His energy was drained, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was tired as hell.

Chloe finished helping him take off his clothes and guided him under the covers, while she wrapped her arms around him from the place beside him. "Goodnight," Chloe said sweetly, kissing his forehead and closing her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brady's eyes blinked open. He was surrounded in darkness. His hand went to the space next to him, expecting to find Chloe but coming up with nothing but air. He sat in silence, when he heard noises coming from the living room. Grabbing the cane beside his bed, he eased onto the floor with crushing protest from his leg and abdomen. "Shit!" he gasped, sucking in a lungful of air.

Brady made slow strides until he was at the threshold of the living room. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face and bare chest. Chloe turned to look, trying to hide the tears in her eyes, but she wasn't fast enough for Brady. "Chloe, what's wrong?" he rasped.

Chloe flicked on the televison and pointed. "I did it, Brady. Even though you warned me, even though I knew how I would feel, I did it anyway."

Brady watched the news as they described recovering the body of a man from the icy depths under the Brooklyn Bridge. Brady listened intently, waiting, knowing whose name they would identify.

"Bound and gaged, the victim was severely beaten before being killed execution style and then thrown into the harbour. The body floated to the surface at approximately ten this evening and was discovered by fishermen just off the pier. The death has been declared highly suspicious with all leads pointing to the acclaimed mob family in the area. Once run by the infamous Tony Scalenta, who was gunned down years ago at Club Truth on the lower east side, the mob is now said to be headed by Gino Callari and Alonzo ''Tiny' Ruco. The victim, Derek Smith, was just released from prison months ago. Anyone that has any information regarding this case is asked the call police at..."

Chloe shut off the televison.

"Chloe, tell me you didn't," Brady said quietly, moving to the couch, struggling slightly. He leaned on the soft cushions and put his arms around her. "Tell me you didn't know about this."

"I can't, Brady," she confessed, not able to meet his eyes. "I didn't know it would happen so quickly. I went to them...to Tony's old friends, and they told me not to worry, that they would take care of everything. It seemed so easy. There was no way I was going to let him hurt you again. Can't you see I had to do this?"

"I understand, baby. Shhh……it's okay. Everything will be okay." Chloe snuggled in beside Brady on the couch and buried her face in his chest. "It's all over," he whispered tenderly, sweeping the hair from her face.

A loud knock interrupted Brady's soft words. He turned to stare at the door. "It's almost three. Who the hell could that be?"

"The police," Chloe whispered as she stood, fear in her eyes, and opened the door.

"Chloe Lane?"

"Yes."

"New York Police Department. We need to ask a few questions."

Chloe nodded absently.

"We've come to inform you that Derek Smith has been killed."

"Yes, I know. We saw it on the news," she said calmly.

"May we come in?" the tall, dark-skinned police officer asked, indicating himself and his short Peurto Rican partner.

"Yes, please."

"We have a few questions for you, as I said before."

Chloe ushered them inside and pointed to the dinning room chairs for them to sit. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"Yes, thank you. Coffee would be great."

Brady stood, taking his cane in his hand, and greeted the officers, shaking their hands and then excusing himself when he went to put on some clothing.

Chloe stood in the kitchen, willing her hands to stop shaking as she filled the filter with tiny coffee crystals. She pulled out four mugs and set them on the counter. Her stomach was knotted up in a ball of nerves, but she controlled herself, forcing her body to calm down.

Brady returned shortly, wearing a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black sweats that Chloe had cut off the leg to earlier, so he could wear them despite his cast.

"How'd you break your leg, son?" Hank, the cop in charge, asked.

"It's no big deal," Brady said, shaking off the question indirectly.

"Oh, and what about the marks on your face?"

"I got into a fight with a couple of guys up to no good. There are some pretty tough neighbourhoods in New York."

"That there is, son, and we patrol half of them."" He laughed, a hearty, deep growl from the bottom of his gut. Brady and the other cop, Richie, laughed as well.

Chloe heard the laughter from the kitchen and settled down some more. She knew if anything could get her through this ordeal, it would be Brady. "Here we go!" Chloe announced, bringing in a tray with the piping hot brew. She also set down a plate of cookies as the men picked up their mugs.

"Well, thank you very much, Miss Lane," Hank said.

Richie stuffed a cookie in his mouth and smiled at Chloe. "Thanks," he told her, then sipped his java black.

Chloe swirled some cream into her hot cup and added a few teaspoons of sugar.

"Now, Miss Lane, I want you to relax. We're not here to accuse you of anything. We're simply gathering information on Mr. Smith. It seems he's made quite a few enemies over the years. Looking at his rap sheet, I'm glad the son-of-a-bitch is dead." Chloe felt her face grow hot. "Oh, pardon my French." He smiled. "Working on the force, dealing with all these criminals has made me forget what interacting with a young lady is supposed to be like."

Chloe smiled. "It's okay, really."

"Richie, where did you put my notebook?"

"Right here, sir," Richie exclaimed, pulling the blue notepad from his front pocket and handing it to his superior.

"Now, Miss Lane, where were we? Oh yes, so it seems Mr. Smith, Derek, was not very likeable. I understand the kid had a few problems. I understand you dated Derek a while back."

"That's true," Chloe croaked.

The officer took pity on her and didn't really care anymore if she really did have anything to do with the murder. It was just one less criminal on the streets to worry about as far as he was concerned, but he still had to follow procedure, as tedious as that might be. "Now, is it true that you and Mr. Smith lived at the NYC home for youths and several other foster homes together?"

"It is," Chloe told him softly, too ashamed to meet his eyes. Brady, sensing her nervousness, grabbed her hand under the table and gave her a light squeeze. "I was young," she continued. "I didn't know how violent he could be. I didn't know how men were supposed to treat women," she told Hank, as tears rolled down her eyes, and she looked over at Brady. Brady felt his own tears at the surface as he watched Chloe recall some of the painful memories from her life.

"Okay. I know this is hard. I just have a few more questions, and then we will be on our way." Chloe nodded and took the handkerchief the man offered her. "Are you aware of any enemies Derek may have had?"

"Derek had more enemies than he did friends," Chloe said glibly.

"And would there be any reason why one of those groups might want to hurt him?"

"There is every reason. Derek was not a good man," she sputtered, trying to control her emotions. Brady watched her, gently running his thumb over the back of her hand as she spoke. "Everyone wanted him dead or at least back in jail." Chloe shrugged.

"I think that's all," Hank told her, standing and putting his cap back on. "Thank you for your help, Miss Lane. Sorry for bursting in here so late. We'll be on our way now. Come on, Richie. Let's allow these people to get some rest."

"Yes, sir," Richie commented and followed Hank out the door.

"Oh yeah, one last thing," the officer said, coming back into the apartment. "I knew Tony Scalenta. He was always good to us. I'm sorry about your loss."

"How did you...?"

"I'm sorry, miss. I should have told you. I know you probably don't remember this, but I was there that night...at Club Truth. Even though Tony was supposed to be the bad guy, he did a lot for the community. He kept a lot of kids out of trouble when he built that rec center."

Chloe nodded her head, shaking slightly. "He was a good man," she said quietly.

"Listen, I shouldn't be saying this, but you'll be fine. We know who was behind this, and we're not going to press charges." The officer smiled down at Chloe who had suddenly appeared to become shy. The officer took Brady's hand and thanked him.

Brady closed the door behind them and walked slowly to Chloe. He wrapped an arm around her while he steadied himself with his cane.

"How do you like that? Another dirty cop," Chloe scoffed.

"You're lucky that Tony was so good to those cops. Otherwise, we might have been looking at this from an entirely different perspective."

"Tony was...he knew how to get what he wanted. Let's just leave it alone. I don't want to talk about him anymore. I just want to forget this night ever existed."

"You okay?" he asked her quietly, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked, not quite believing her.

"It's over," she whispered. "That's all I ever wanted...I just wanted it to be over."

Brady led her slowly over to the couch and sat down. He took her in his arms and cradled her against his chest, as she had done for him while he was in the hospital. He rocked her gently back and forth. The movements were slow and relaxing. He waited. Waited for the tears to flow from her big doe eyes. And they did come. Hard, heavy drops fell from her eyes, coating his shirt. He rocked, and she cried, rocked her and cried until there were no tears left.

When she quieted, he whisked the hair from her face and kissed her cheek. A torturous, relentless part of her life was over. The chapter was over, but the pain had still to come. There would always be the memories of the playground, the street life and Derek's face, but now she could live without regret, without fear. And that truly made everything worthwhile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chloe walked Brady to their bedroom, as she had become a permanent fixture in his loft, and let him drift to sleep as the feeling of nausea overtook her. She ran to the toilet, barely able to make it in time, as she retched her stomach until there was nothing left but acid. She wiped her face and smoothed back her hair, dousing her face with water.

"What's happening to me?" she asked herself aloud in the mirror. At first, she had thought it was stress from the accident that had made her feel so sick lately, but now she wasn't so sure. Now, she thought it might be something else, and that thought was pushed to the back of her mind as she rushed to get the phone.

"Hello?" Chloe breathed into the phone, a little out of wind from running to catch it before the other person hung up. Chloe listened to the voice at the other end. She grew sympathetic as she listened to the man begin to weep as he relayed his story. Chloe didn't say much. She just let the man talk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

John Black had read the paper that morning. He saw the write-up about his son and his girlfriend. It disgusted him beyond belief. Brady had always brought the family down, and now when it had been years since he had see him, he was causing more trouble for him and Marlena. He poured on the crocodile tears as he worked Miss Chloe Lane over the phone, relaying stories of how he has tried to contact his son over the years to no avail. He could just imagine the young girl on the other end brought to tears herself by his plea. He'd seen her picture, knew she was striking, but a bad influence nonetheless. She was just as bad for the family name as his son was.

When his son came to him, begging to borrow money to open his own business, John had been as tough and ruthless as ever. He held the interest inexplicably high and hated when Brady had paid him off fully, in such a short amount of time too. He had no hold on his son any longer, nor did he have a clue what his life was like. It had disgraced him several times, when he heard of Brady's bar fights and the countless women.

He hated his son as much as one man could. He reminded him so much of the beautiful woman he had lost so long ago. His sweet, angelic Isabella. In the prime of her life, she was taken from him. He was left with a son he couldn't relate to and didn't want. The memories were too painful, and every time he looked at Brady, he saw her. It was his eyes. They had once been so innocent, so loving. John could see it. When Brady stretched up holding his hands out for his father, even as an infant, he couldn't hold him, couldn't touch him. That sparkle in Brady's eyes identical to his mother's practically drove John insane. Every time he looked into those eyes, he saw her, and he had to get out. He had to be by himself and away from Brady.

Things got easier when he met and married Marlena. Now all of his attention was on her, and she could help him with Brady. But she harboured the same resentment, the same cruelty as her husband. And so Brady had been alone. All his life, he waited for love and was never given it, until now. Now, John plotted to pretend to reunite with his son to get the tabloids off his back. It was not good for PR to have such a dark spot in his past out in the open. A reunion would prove John was the nice, caring man he claimed to be, and so he used Chloe to get to Brady. John played all his cards, made his voice crack as he told Chloe how he wished to get to know his son.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After they hung up, Chloe thought for a long time about the things John Black had said to her. It didn't seem to make sense. Hours went by before she made a move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chloe went into the living room where Brady sat in a swivel chair watching television. "Your father called," Chloe told him over her shoulder, as she folded his clothes, unpacking them out of the duffel bag.

Brady shook his head, keeping silent. He was not willing to be led down this road. There was no way in hell he wanted to talk about his father, not when his leg hurt like hell and his side felt like it was on fire.

"We had a long talk," Chloe persisted, aware of his indignant attitude. "He told me he had made many mistakes, Brady. He said he couldn't take back the last few years, but he could try to make up for it."

"Stop," Brady said quietly, almost awkwardly.

Chloe halted her movements and turned to face him. "He really wants to make things better. He broke down and cried, Brady. That doesn't sound like the cold man you described him to be."

"You don't know anything!" Brady snapped, then softened his tone when he saw her jump. "You don't know my father, Chloe. He'll tell you anything to make himself look like the hero. He knows the tabloids will have a field day with this. That's what this is about. He has money, and he's powerful. People want to destroy that kind of thing, so they dig deep to try to find a flaw in the perfect life John has built for himself, and now they have it. He wants to make amends only because it will look good for him, not because he cares. If they write up about his disowned son and his girlfriend who has ties to the mafia, how do you think that will look on him?" Brady didn't wait for her to answer. "Not good. He will never change. I've learned that."

"I'm sorry, Brady. I wish things could be different for you," Chloe told him, leaving the pile of clothes at the end of the couch and leaning beside him, pulling him into her arms.

"He's an ass. I don't need him," Brady laughed slightly into her curls.

"So where do we go from here?"

"The bedroom?"

"Brady, I'm serious!"

"So am I," he laughed. "I need to rest."

"Oh."

"Of course while I'm resting, I wouldn't mind a little company," he told her with a devil of a grin and a courteous wink.

"Brady, you should still call him."

"Chloe, I know how you feel, but I haven't talked to the man in almost five years. I'm not going to start now."

"I can't make you do anything, but you only have one father. You should try to reconnect."

"I could say the same for you, Diva. What was that you said once about a mother that lived in Salem?"

"Point taken," Chloe laughed softly. "God, I don't know what I would do without you."

"Hopefully you'll never have to know." He winked again.

"That's right, mister. Because from this point on, I'm not letting you out of my sight, even for an instant."

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

"Okay, I'll give you some alone time then. But only then, Black!" Chloe told him, trying her best to remain serious.

"And what about if I want to go out and buy you a present? Are you going to follow me into stores so that nothing will be a surprise?" he teased.

"As long as you call me every five minutes, I think we can arrange that."

"You really are a Diva!" he laughed, covering her cheek with a sloppy kiss.