Outside Xa County Hospital
Xa, California
April 1, 1996

"So, he turned out to be the guy's son," Chance concluded the story he had been telling Audrey as she wheeled him out the front entrance of the hospital where he had been a patient ever since the explosion at the dock. His friend shook her blonde head in amusement.

"Only you, Chance. Only you could cause a family reunion by smashing a TV remote." There was a touch of amusement in her voice.

"I wouldn't say it was a reunion--more of a reconciliation. They'd been estranged for something like twenty years."

Westin chuckled. "Can't you even spend time in the hospital without causing trouble?"

"Apparently not."

"No wonder they were so eager to get rid of you," she quipped. Chance craned his neck to glare at her.

By this time, they had reached Audrey's red Mustang convertible. Since it was a little cloudy out, the top was up, so she set the brake on the chair with her foot and reached into her purse to find her keys. Chance started to rise but she pushed him back into the seat with a firm hand on his shoulder and a forcefulness that surprised him.

"Uh uh. You're not going anywhere under your own power until I get you home where I can keep an eye on you."

Reluctantly Chance sank back into the chair. Westin breathed a low sigh of relief and turned to unlock the car.

Behind her, Chance felt an unexpected shift in the gears of the wheelchair, then...movement. "Uh oh."

"What?" Audrey asked impatiently without turning around. There was no response. She turned back to confront the photographer. "Chance, what--"

Westin gasped in horror, not finishing her sentence. His wheelchair was rolling with increasing speed down the gentle slope of the parking lot, straight towards a very expensive looking car.

She swore and sprinted after the runaway wheelchair. "Chance!"

"How do I stop this thing?" Chance hollered back at her over his shoulder.

Audrey felt a lump in her stomach tighten like a fist. "Try the lever!" she shouted at her rapidly rolling friend. The chair hit a crack in the pavement, jarring its passenger.

Chance groped wildly for the brake lever, his flailing fingers almost getting caught in the spokes of the oversized wheels. Finally, with a muffled shout of triumph, he clamped his hand on the brake and yanked it towards him, hard. The wheels locked and he skidded to a stop inches away from a glistening black Mercedes Benz.

Exhaling audibly, the photographer slowly released his vice grip on the brake. Grasping the rim of the wheels, he spun the chair around. Westin pounded to a halt just as he turned.

"That was close," she breathed, sweeping a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Chance wheeled himself further away from the car.

"Don't you ever take a day off?" she demanded, grasping the handles on the back of the chair and turning it back towards her car. Wisely, the photographer didn't answer.

Audrey jogged Chance over to the Mustang and helped him into the car, then returned the chair to the hospital. She left it in the lobby and fled without looking at anyone. Hoping that no one had seen Chance's stunt, she slipped into the car, slammed the door, and gunned the engine. Then she took a deep breath to collect herself before driving.

Nothing--and she meant nothing--was going to happen to her car.

Checking her mirrors, she backed slowly out of the space. Suddenly the car rocked and shot forward from an unexpected impact. She and Chance were thrown against the seats.

"Damn it!" Westin jumped out of the Mustang, whipping around and slamming the door behind her. She turned to confront the offender...

Who just happened to be driving a black Mercedes with a crumpled hood now locked like a puzzle piece to the Mustang's crumpled rear.

Slowly and deliberately, Audrey pivoted to face Chance with an accusing glare. He grimaced sheepishly and shrugged.

"Sorry."