FoodWay Parking Lot

They all heard the deal go sour. The detectives even had hopes that Willem could reverse the downward spiral with his "stiff a potential customer" spiel, but that had gone to hell in a hand basket, too. Captain Banks's voice came over the ear mikes the same instant Cypher fired his gun.

"Move it!" Banks yelled.

Jim turned the key in the old Ford's ignition and floored the accelerator with a short warning to his partner, "Hold on, Chief."

Willem O'Dell lay still where he had fallen. Cypher slammed his door shut and started his own engine as Connor and Banks bolted out of the FoodWay. Brown and Rafe ran towards the now- moving Corsica, guns drawn and ready. The Corsica sped towards the partners, then took a sharp left towards the exit of the parking lot, barely missing the detectives.

"Oh no, you don't," Jim muttered.

He made a harried turn into the parking lot, the entire rig bouncing when he hit a deep pothole. Jim's head slammed into the roof, creating fuzzy dots in his field of vision. They cleared almost instantly and the Corsica loomed directly in his path. Jim could just barely make out Cypher's face through the car's tinted windshield, but one thing was certain -- Cypher was sweating.

"Jim?" Sandburg asked. "Jim, we're going to--"

"He'll turn first," Jim replied.

With less than five feet to go, the Corsica cut to the right, its tires squealing on the asphalt. Jim yanked on his wheel, sending the Ford into a 180-degree turn. He hit the brakes and watched the Corsica careen out of control and impale itself on a telephone pole. The front end buckled like an accordion, shattering glass all over the pavement. A gray wisp of steam rose ghost-like from the radiator, punctuated by a soft hissing. There was no movement inside the car.

"Man, oh man," Sandburg muttered.

Jim shifted into park and climbed out of the truck, pulling his revolver. He almost collided with Rafe at the bumper of the Corsica. Waving the younger detective behind him, Jim approached the driver's side door. The glass in the window had spider-webbed into thousands of tiny fractures, making it impossible to see through. Jim nodded his head to Rafe, then yanked open the door. Rafe leapt forward, gun at the ready. Jim whipped around and stopped.

The .357 was lying on the floor by the brake pedal. Cypher was upright in the front seat, blood trickling down his forehead, eyes staring blankly ahead. He looked dead, but for the soft rise and fall of his chest.

"Out of the car!" Rafe ordered.

Cypher blinked, the only sign of acknowledgment.

"Get out of the damned car!" Rafe repeated, his voice rising a notch.

Cypher's head turned slightly towards them, his dark eyes locking with Rafe's.

"Instinct told me 'is was wrong," Cypher mumbled, his deep voice making the words almost impossible to hear. "Shoulda listened to m'self."

"Too bad," Jim said. "Because you're under arrest."

Cypher looked at Jim dully. "Shit."

Cascade General, Later

Since his arrival, David had not left his room at the hospital except for tests. Now that he was out, he was more nervous than he'd anticipated.

He'd been too afraid to enter a vast world that his dark eyes could not penetrate. The sounds and smells of his room were familiar in their simplicity. He knew how far the door was, the bathroom was, and the opposite wall was. But outside the door were people he couldn't see and obstacles he couldn't avoid. He'd gone out three times before for tests, always in a wheelchair and the company of an orderly -- a happy young man named Jonas. Aside from Lewis, Megan and L.T., Jonas was his only consistent visitor. David assumed he was around his own age, but knew little else about the man, except he was a paramedic in-training and loved ice hockey.

After lunch, David had decided enough was enough. Two days of sitting in bed was starting to get to him. Besides, there was someone he needed to see. When Jonas came back to pick up David's tray, David had convinced the man to take him on a little field trip.

"You think that's a good idea?" Jonas had asked.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "But I have to see her. It was my fault she--"

"Kiddo," Jonas said. "How many times am I gonna have to knock you around for saying it was your fault?"

David sighed and his sightless eyes fixed on the spot he guessed Jonas to be standing. Jonas was a big opponent of self-pity.

"Yeah, okay," David said. "So can you take me up? Just for a few minutes?"

He listened to Jonas breathing, imagining possible facial expressions the man could be making.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," Jonas had said. "After I finish collecting the trays. Deal?"

"Deal."

The ten minutes had become twenty after a patient down the hall threw up on a nurse and Jonas's assistance was required. David heard the familiar squeal of the wheelchair and turned his head towards the door. Jonas's voice drifted into the open door.

"I'd like to give you something, you old biddy," Jonas mumbled.

David smiled. It was at least another minute before Jonas's sneakers squeaked across the linoleum.

"Which old biddy?" David asked immediately.

The squeaks stopped as Jonas froze. "You know the creepy thing about blind people?" Jonas asked rhetorically. "Your hearing is too damned good."

"I'd rather be deaf than blind," David had said, letting Jonas guide him into the wheelchair. "Deaf people can at least see where they're going and what they're eating."

"And who they're talking to," Jonas had added. "So to speak."

Up in the ICU, a cacophony of beeps, whirs and hisses met David's ears that made him cringe. They stopped and Jonas spoke with the duty nurse.

"Lucy Morrison," Jonas said.

"Family only," the nurse replied.

"This kid was with her when it happened," Jonas hissed. "Five minutes, please."

There was a short pause. David could only imagine the looks passing between the nurse and orderly. Then, "Okay, five minutes. Her parents will be back soon."

David snapped his head towards the nurse's voice. "They're here?"

He imagined the nurse nodding. "Yes, they arrived yesterday. Mr. and Mrs. Morrison will be taking Lucy tomorrow."

"Home?" he asked blankly. "As in Michigan?"

"Yes."

David let that sink in. "Is she ever going to wake up?"

"I really can't tell y-" she stopped for an instant. "If Lucy does wake up, she'll probably have severe brain damage. I'm sorry. Why don't you go on in?"

The chair was moving again, past several beeping heart monitors, before stopping. Jonas maneuvered the wheelchair and David felt a soft sheet next to his left arm.

"I'll wait outside," Jonas said. His squeaky sneakers padded away.

David reached out tentatively, tracking the sheet until he found soft flesh and tubes. His fingers trailed down and found Lucy's hand. Careful not to jostle any of the wires, David gently clasped her hand in his. Her skin was cool and dry.

"I sure wish I could see you one more time, Lucy," David whispered. "You had so many plans, we both did. But I know L.T. and Henri and the other detectives. They won't quit on this until someone pays. Cheap comfort, I know, but it's all I got."

He gently brought her hand up and kissed the palm. "I'm so sorry, Lucy," he said softly.

Major Crime, That Afternoon

Simon Banks watched rivulets of water trickle down the glass panes of his office windows. They formed thin rivers that ran together and branched apart, creating intricate relationships and formations.

Sort of like people, he thought. Two fingers tapped idly on the sides of his empty coffee mug.

He'd let Ellison and Sandburg interrogate Cypher -- the man still refused to give his full name, even though he knew they were running his prints as he sat -- for almost two hours. The man was tough as nails and until Interpol came back with his prints, the detectives had nothing to bait the man with.

At least Daryl was coming home this weekend. It was an impromptu trip. He'd originally been going skiing with a group of college friends, but changed plans at the last minute. Daryl had become friends with David Dawson in the short time they'd actually been around one another and was concerned about the young man. It was a gesture that made Simon proud of his son.

The phone rang and Simon glared at it before answering.

"Banks."

"Captain Banks? This is Captain DeSoto from Seattle."

Simon jerked in his chair. DeSoto was in charge of the SPD's Narcotics Division and had been his liaison in Seattle since Brain Candy first showed up in Cascade.

"Yes, Captain?" Simon asked, his voice rising a notch.

"We've had a busy morning here in Seattle and I thought I'd tell you about it."

Something in DeSoto's voice made Simon Banks smile.

"Captain DeSoto, I am, as they say, all ears."

Thirty Minutes Later

Banks couldn't help but smirk as he led Ellison, Rafe and Sandburg back into the interrogation room. Cypher glared at them, his expression unchanged from their last discussion. Simon sat in the chair directly opposite Cypher and stared the man straight in the eye.

"You should have made a deal when you had the chance," Simon said evenly. "Jarrod DeMaeo."

Cypher blinked, his lips parting slightly.

"You're surprised," Simon continued. "That's a good sign. It proves what I've been told."

"Which is what?" Cypher asked, his voice faltering.

"For starters, that you don't work for the men who manufacture Brain Candy in Seattle," Ellison said. "That you stole the drugs you have now from them, and have been trying to sell them quickly so you can get out of town. That they found out and were planning on putting a hit out on you. That Seattle PD busted up their little ring and they decided to sing all about their old contacts. Is that enough, or should I go on?"

"That's enough," Cypher muttered. "I needed that money, man."

"I'm sure you did," Rafe sneered.

Cypher grunted, fixing his steely gaze on Rafe. "What the hell you know about it, law man? You don't know me."

"No, I don't," Rafe said. "But I know both of the kids you sent to the hospital on your drugs. So as far as I'm concerned you, your problems and your damned drugs can all rot together happily in a tiny little jail cell for the next twenty years."

"Hey, screw you!" Cypher said.

Rafe lunged for the man, but Sandburg stepped in his path. Simon stood up.

"Out," he ordered his detectives.

One by one they filed out. Simon followed, then paused in the doorway and looked back at Cypher.

"Get a good nights sleep," Simon said. "You'll be going to county lockup tomorrow and this is the last peaceful night you'll be having for a long time."

With a sinister smile, Simon walked out and slammed the door shut behind him.

Cascade General, That Evening

David's voice called Rafe into his hospital room before Rafe had a chance to knock. It was almost as spooky as when Ellison did it, but Rafe knew that David's ears were just compensating for his sight loss. Not quite the same as Ellison's abilities.

Lewis was perched on the edge of a chair; mouth slightly open as if he'd stopped mid- sentence. Both he and David looked in Rafe's direction as the detective entered.

"Hey, Lewis," Rafe said pleasantly.

"Hi, Mr. Rafe," Lewis replied. His feet tapped rhythmically against the polished linoleum.

"Did I interrupt something?" Rafe asked, looking from one college student to the other.

"No--" Lewis began.

"Just a story," David said, his eyes seeking Rafe's voice. "Lewis was telling me how this past Christmas, his Uncle Josh came to dinner and spiked the eggnog. He was just saying how his Aunt Sheryl got sloshed and spent two hours roaming around the house looking for Peter's lost peppers."

Rafe chuckled and walked to the foot of the bed. "Should I even ask what that means?"

"You know that tongue twister?" Lewis said, coloring lightly. "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Well, to prove Aunt Sheryl really was drunk, Uncle Josh had her try to repeat that. She got confused and decided I was Peter, my dad was Piper, and her mission in life was to find our lost peppers."

"Sounds like a unique family," Rafe commented as he and David dissolved into laughter.

"By the way," David said, calming a bit. "How's Officer O'Dell?"

"He's fine," Rafe said. "A little sore, but his vest saved his life. He's gonna keep the bullet to show his grandkids some day. Says it's a souvenir from his first undercover assignment. That kid will pass the detective's exam with flying colors." He paused. "Did you hear about Cypher?"

David nodded. "I called the station a little while ago and coerced it out of Henri." When Rafe didn't respond, he asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I wish I could be alone with him in a dark room," Rafe said flatly.

"You and me both," David said. "Of course, I don't know who'd have the bigger advantage. Him with complete eyesight, or me with great hearing and pinpricks of light."

"What?" Rafe rounded the edge of the bed to stand next to his brother. "You can see?"

A wide grin spread across David's pale face, the time first he'd really smiled in a few days. "Yeah, I can see little dots of light here and there," he said proudly. "The doctor said that it's good news. He should be back in a few minutes."

"That is so great!" Rafe exclaimed.

He grabbed David in a bear hug. David wrapped his own arms around Rafe's waist and held tight. Rafe felt David's heart beating through his thin T-shirt, knowing how close that heart had come to stopping for good not three days ago.

"Why didn't you say something?" Rafe asked.

David pulled away, his unseeing eyes fixing on a point just above Rafe's forehead. Rafe shifted himself into David's line of sight.

"I didn't want to jinx myself," David admitted.

"Come on," Rafe said. "This can't be anything but good news, right?"

"Mr. Dawson?"

Rafe, David and Lewis turned to the door. Dr. Robbins, the neurologist assigned to David's case, was poised in the doorway, chart in hand.

"Hey, doc," David said.

Dr. Robbins cleared his throat. "We got your final test results back."

The Loft, Evening

Blair rinsed the carrots under the kitchen faucet and transferred them to the cutting board. He reached for a sharp knife and began slicing the carrots into coins. Nearby, Jim hung up the cordless phone and wandered into the kitchen.

"Simon says there haven't been any more reports of Brain Candy overdoses in Seattle since the bust," Jim reported, stealing a piece of carrot.

"That's good news," Blair said. "Here, tear the lettuce if you want to be helpful."

Jim accepted the head of romaine, but made no move to prepare it. "The Lambda fraternity is being brought up on official charges this week. He also said Cypher's arraignment is scheduled for Monday afternoon. He's going to be charged with murder now."

Blair froze as a cold wave of fear stole through him. He turned, the knife pausing midair. "What?"

"Lucy Morrison died about fifteen minutes ago," Jim said somberly.

"Damn," Blair muttered, his shoulders slumping.

Jim nodded. The pair stood in silence for several minutes. Neither man had known Lucy, but was aware that David had. It was tragic when anyone as young as Lucy died, doubly so under her circumstances. To their knowledge, she hadn't woken up since the night of the overdose, and probably never knew what happened.

Jim broke the spell by reaching for the large salad bowl. He set about tearing the lettuce while Blair resumed his carrot chopping.