The woman looked disappointed, but she was powerless against a bevy of determined O'Flahertys, so she stood aside and offered no further comment. Conor placed a supportive arm around the back of each woman and helped guide them out of the room. But the news media had packed the entrance to the E.R. so tightly that a number of security guards were on hand just to allow emergency patients to get inside.

Brendan led the way, trying to clear a path, but the crowd of still and video camera operators descended on them like a swarm of locusts, with each person shouting out a pithy question - mostly along the lines of, "How does it feel to be a hero, Ryan? What do you want to say to America, Jamie?"

Ryan shot a few murderous glances that she was fairly sure would not make it to the local newscast, since her scowl did not fit the image they would try to create for her. Brendan used his powerful body to push roughly through the crowd, caring not a whit if he crushed a few of the lemmings on the way. They finally got to the police cruiser that was to take them to the truck, but when half of the media scrambled for their cars and trucks, Brendan asked the officer to drive them home. "I don't think they're going to give up easily, Sis," he said worriedly.

His prediction proved all too true, as they pulled up to the house and gawked at the legion of trucks, generators, and photographers just waiting for them to arrive. "No f.u.c.king way," she muttered. "We're talking to no one that we're not related to!"

"It's gonna be tough," he advised her.

"This is where it comes in handy to have a police officer with a nice big gun," she said sagely as she stared at the officer's blue-clad back.

Minutes later, they were locked in a crushing embrace with dozens of relatives, thanks to the strong-arm tactics of a dozen O'Flaherty men who had pushed the crowd of reporters off the deck. Brendan appointed himself family spokesman, and he went back out onto the deck and spoke over the railing. He announced that neither woman would be giving interviews this night or ever, and asked that their privacy be respected. He knew that the gesture would fall on deaf ears, but at least he was on record as trying to be polite.

After the crowd had calmed down, Martin and Maeve and Catherine and Jim each grabbed their respective children in a desperate embrace. All six sets of eyes cried helplessly as they clung together. Jamie looked around the room and found her grandfather, holding out an arm to invite him into the hug. She cried even harder when she felt his arms close around her, sinking into his embrace just as she had when she was a child. Eventually, Martin pulled away and ordered, "Downstairs with the both of you, and don't come back until you're warm and dry."

By the time they got downstairs, the drugs had really kicked in and Ryan was even slower mentally than she had been at the hospital. She grabbed Jamie from behind, and they tumbled to the bed in a jumble of arms and legs. By the time they hit the mattress, Ryan was crying again, an element of hysteria to her sobs that worried Jamie deeply. Struggling against the force of the embrace, the smaller woman pulled away from Ryan to turn and face her. Clutching the damp head to her breast, she soothed, "Tell me, honey."

Ryan's mouth opened slightly and immediately shut tightly. Two more times she tried to speak in a calm fashion, but she finally gave up and gasped, "I almost got you killed tonight, Jamie! I know you know it! You said yourself that you'd kick my a.s.s in heaven if we'd died." She started to cry again, her remorse over her actions overwhelming her.

Jamie felt sick to her stomach, her words coming back to haunt her in a way she hadn't antic.i.p.ated. She had a.s.sumed that Ryan would be cavalier about her actions - just chalking it up to doing what one had to do when another human was in peril. It didn't dawn on her that Ryan would not only take her seriously - she would hate herself for what she had done. "Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, holding Ryan close. "I... I don't... I didn't mean that! I'm so sorry." She tightened her hold and rocked her lover for a few minutes, kissing her dark, fishy-smelling hair repeatedly. Pulling back, she looked into Ryan's sorrow-filled eyes and said, "Ryan, you have to be who you are. The woman I love is so generous, so filled with love for others; that she does things that are - to most people - very foolhardy. If you asked 1,000 people if they'd risk their life to save someone who was trying to kill them - most of them couldn't even keep a straight face. They'd think you were crazy just for asking the question!"

"I am crazy," Ryan muttered. "I'm f.u.c.king insane."

Jamie grasped her chin and held her still, forcing Ryan to meet her eyes. "You are not! I don't want to hear another word like that out of you!" She kissed her firmly, trying to make Ryan feel how much she loved her - just as she was. "One of the things I love the most about you is how much you value human life. That's who you are, Ryan, and you could no more stop being that way than you could stop being tall or left-handed. It's part of what makes you you - and I love you with all of my heart."

"I would have died if you'd drowned, Jamie," she sobbed pitifully. "I would have died!"

"Look," Jamie said, still holding her chin. "You're more athletic than I am... you're stronger than I am... you're a better swimmer than I am... h.e.l.l, your lungs are bigger than mine," she insisted, recalling a breath-holding contest in her parents' pool that she had lost by almost a minute and a half. "Going after those two didn't risk your life nearly as much as I risked mine by going after you! Are you angry with me?"

Ryan blinked slowly, her eyes round and looking puzzled. "No... I'm not angry with you," she murmured.

"You should be," Jamie said firmly. "You didn't want me to follow you... you told me not to... but I did so anyway. I made the decision to die with you if I couldn't bring you back, Ryan. But instead of saving you, I pa.s.sed out from lack of oxygen. If you hadn't pulled me to the surface, I would have started to breathe underwater - and I would have drowned. My death would have been from my own hard-headedness," she insisted. "You're a risk-taker," Jamie decided. "I'm not. Trying to follow you was crazy - even though I'd do it again in a heartbeat," she said, sparing a small smile for her beloved partner.

"I love you so much," Ryan sighed, holding her close. "I'll never be able to tell you how much."

"You show me every day," Jamie a.s.sured her, "I know exactly how much you care for me. I just hope you understand how I feel about you."

"I do," Ryan said, a smile curling just one corner of her mouth. "I do, Jamie."

Ryan stood in the shower with the comfortingly warm water cascading down her body. Jamie stood behind her, washing her with a reverence normally reserved for royalty or deities. Finally, Ryan turned and whispered into her lover's pink ear, "I'm okay. You can be a little more aggressive. I proved tonight that I don't break easily." Ryan was obviously trying to act like things were back to normal, and Jamie did her best to contribute to the illusion.

"You certainly did that," she agreed, with a small smile. "Those idiots had no idea who they were f.u.c.king with! They had an argument because of you," she informed her.

Ryan really didn't want to hear the details of what went on in the car, but she didn't want to prevent Jamie from talking if she needed to, so she just gave her a blank look and waited.

"When they were almost out of bullets, the crazier one of the pair pointed the gun right into my face," she said, shivering violently, despite the heat of the water. "I could honestly see his finger whiten on the trigger," she said. "But his brother reminded him that you were still up there on the roof, and he reluctantly agreed that he hated you worse." She smiled up at her partner and said, "So, remind me to never complain about you being a pain in the b.u.t.t, okay? Your ability to annoy saved my life."

Ryan just leaned down and turned off the water, managing to get out of the shower just before her knees gave way. She fumbled around, her wet body almost causing her to slide off, but managed to sit on the closed toilet lid and catch her breath. Jamie cursed herself for relating the story, her plan to lighten the mood having gone horribly wrong. She wrapped the shivering woman in a towel and then stood in front of her, holding her head against her belly until she calmed down slightly. "I'm sorry for telling you that," she whispered.

"S'okay," Ryan nodded. "You had to live through it. I should know these things."

"Maybe someday," Jamie sighed, "but not now."

Jamie was warm and dry before Ryan, since her hair was so much easier to finish. "You go on up and rea.s.sure your parents," Ryan told her. "I'm afraid to come up with one drop of water still in my hair - Da will check," she added.

Three minutes later a soft knock on the door announced Martin's presence. "Can I come in?" he asked when she turned around.

"Of course, Da." She turned off the dryer and faced him, waiting for him to speak.

"Come sit," he indicated, moving to the loveseat. When she did so, he placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her to his chest. "We're all so proud of you, sweetheart. Not only that you saved Jamie and Caitlin, but that you did so with so little bloodshed."

Her eyes grew wide and she started to shake her head, "Da, I don't want to talk about it."

"Shh," he soothed, tightening his hold. "I know it was hard for you to shoot that man, sweetheart." He rocked her quaking body, saying, "As angry as I was when I watched it on TV, I'm very proud that you dove back in to rescue the f.e.c.kers. That's what makes you such a wonderful young woman," he insisted, giving her a squeeze. "We're both so very proud of you, Siobhan."

She nodded. "Aunt Maeve told me how she felt."

"She's proud of you too, love. But I wasn't referring to your aunt. I was speaking of your mother and me. She was with you tonight, you know."

"I know," she croaked through her tear strained voice. "I could feel her when we went by old St. Patrick's. I said a little prayer to her right before we hit 7th Street - just before they started to shoot through the roof at me."

He grasped her tightly to his chest, unaware of the details of the travails his baby had been put through.

She sat up a bit and pulled her hair out to the side. As she ran her fingers through it, an inch-wide clump fell from her fingers to drop next to her neck. The clump was at least four inches shorter than the rest of the hair, and as he looked at her in question she explained, "One of the bullets. .h.i.t the sleeve of my jacket, but didn't scratch me. Another would have hit me in the head, but we were climbing n.o.b Hill and I shifted backwards; and the third hit so close to my head that it shot right through my hair. Is that just luck?" she asked helplessly. "I think Mama convinced somebody upstairs that she wasn't ready for company just yet."

"She could charm the slither out of a snake," he whispered, his voice choked with tears. "I'm glad to know she hasn't lost her touch." He rocked his youngest child in his arms for a long time, humming the lullaby that Fionnuala had always sung to her. After they'd both cried themselves out he said, "I'm so glad your mama didn't call you home tonight, Siobhan. I don't know how I'd go on without you."

"You won't have to, Da. I'm going to do my best to never come that close again. Life is too precious to give it up without a d.a.m.ned good reason."

When Ryan emerged from the stairway, Mia pushed through the crowd to wrap her arms around her and hold on for a long time. Finally lifting her head, she smiled up at Ryan and said reverently, "You rock."

Ryan started to reply, but Mia kissed her again and turned to dash back to the corner. "I volunteered for phone duty," she said quickly as she picked up the phone on the third ring. "h.e.l.lo, this is Mia Christopher. How can I help you?"

Blowing Mia a kiss, Ryan looked around and found her partner sitting in the corner of the dining room, leaning heavily against her grandfather. Giving them their privacy, she went into the kitchen and found her Aunt Maeve making sandwiches. She entered quietly sat down on a stool and just gazed at the older woman until she looked up and noticed her niece. Without a word, Maeve walked over to her and held her, holding on until both of them were unable to shed another tear.

After having her aunt force-feed her a sandwich, Ryan went into the living room and found her partner, grasped Jamie by the hand and made her way to the center of the crowd. The occupants of the loveseat immediately vacated to let the young women sit. "Beer or whiskey?" Kieran asked as soon as they were settled.

"Nothing for me," Jamie said. "My stomach is still too upset."

"Wish I could," Ryan said, "but I'd be on my a.s.s if I drank anything with the drugs they gave me."

"You'd be in good company," Kieran a.s.sured her. He bent to kiss her head and said, "I predict most of this crowd will be on their a.s.ses before the night is through."

When Jamie left to use the facilities, Catherine spied the opening and took her spot on the loveseat. She didn't say much, and Ryan guessed that whatever she said would be slurred, but she wrapped her arms around Ryan's neck and squeezed until the larger woman let out a gasp of pain. When Jamie returned, her mother didn't look like she was in any condition to get up, so she sat on Ryan's lap. Catherine captured her legs and put them up on her own lap, removing her socks and beginning a tender, if drunken, foot rub.

Jim spotted the threesome, and came to sit on the arm of the piece behind his wife, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. "I missed a lot of the detail here," he admitted. "Why were the three of you out on a night like this, anyway?"

"We were taking a huge load of presents to Jennie's group home," Jamie informed him. "The car was packed with clothes and computers..." She looked up at him and said, "It's all gone now."

Catherine's gaze sharpened, and she a.s.sured them, "Don't give it another thought. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

They both smiled at her, a.s.suming that her promise would be lost in the drunken haze in which she currently resided.

An hour later they had not moved from their spot. Jamie noted that not one member of the family had said much about the incident, and no one had asked them to recount anything that had happened. But, one after another, they would come stand by them and pat them gently on the head, or touch a face, or a shoulder. It dawned on Jamie that the O'Flaherty way was not to talk about upsetting events at all. They all had a good idea what had happened, since they saw most of it on television. They all a.s.sumed that the incident had terrified them both to the core, so there was really no sense in making them talk about it again. But they all offered physical affection, which seemed so much easier for Ryan to accept. I wonder if this is genetic, she mused as Donal came by and kissed her on the top of her head. But when Annie came over and sat on the arm of the loveseat and pulled Ryan's head down to rest in her lap, she reasoned, It must be learned behavior, since Annie's clearly not blood related.

"You're hair's still a little damp," she chided Ryan. "And you still feel cold." As she spoke, she was gently trailing her fingers through Ryan's still damp hair, but all at once her calm demeanor collapsed completely, and she broke into nearly hysterical sobs. Ryan reached up and gathered her in her arms, as Jamie scooted off her lap.

"It's okay, Annie," Ryan soothed. "She's all right. Not a scratch on her sweet little head."

"Because of you two," she sobbed. "Only because of you. If you hadn't done everything... I mean everything, right..."

"You don't know that," Ryan murmured. "You don't know that we made the right choices, and you don't know what would have happened if we'd done something different. You don't know, Annie. We don't know. The only thing we're sure of is that she's absolutely fine now. That has to be enough."

Ryan got up to take a call from her family in Ireland, the news reaching them as soon as they woke. CNN had been heavily running the story of the senator's daughter and her harrowing brush with death, and a neighbor of Ryan's grandparents had gone running to their door to inform them of the incident.

Speaking to her family upset her more than she would have guessed. Perhaps it was the distance - perhaps it was because she so longed for a hug and a snuggle from her aunt - but whatever the reason, she was feeling very shaky after she hung up.

Just to have a moment to herself, she climbed the stairs to the upper floor, going up just halfway to avoid being noticed. When she didn't come back to join Jamie, the smaller woman got up to look for her. It took a while, since the stairway was the last place she expected to find her, and when she caught sight of her, tears sprang to her eyes again.

Ryan was sitting on a stair-tread, her arms wrapped around Duffy's neck, the big, black dog tenderly licking the tears as they fell from her eyes. Jamie could see that her lips were moving, and that Ryan was obviously sharing something with her beloved pet. Duffy was, as usual, the soul of understanding - and Jamie left them to their embrace, knowing that there were things Ryan felt safe sharing with Duffy that she wouldn't share with anyone else on earth.

The police arrived at nine o'clock, and after a little discussion, they decided to conduct the interview in Ryan's room. Both Jim and Brendan insisted on being there since they claimed they were representing the women. But Ryan's eyes goggled when Conor stepped in and insisted that he was representing Ryan also.

They went downstairs, and a few minutes later they began the questioning. When it became clear that the young women's perspectives were completely different, they decided to split them up. One officer, Jamie and Jim went up to Rory's room, while Ryan and her brothers stayed downstairs. Conor pushed his chair back a bit and tugged on Ryan until she sat sideways in her chair and leaned back against his broad chest. He rubbed her shoulders and arms briskly, ostensibly trying to bring some feeling back into her appendages; but in reality, he just couldn't touch her enough. Conor had considered his baby sister his personal charge since the day she was born, and this terrifying brush with death had affected him profoundly. He found the image of her going under to rescue her attackers flooding his mind, and every time it happened he held on a little tighter, until she finally whispered, "You're bruising me, Con."

"I'm sorry, Ryan," he said quickly as he released his grip. "I just... I..."

"I know, Conor," she said as she kissed his cheek. "I know."

He gave her a small smile, and wrapped her in a gentler embrace for the duration of the interview.

When they were finished, Ryan was dismayed to learn that the officers wanted to switch places and question them all over again. She was bone tired and emotionally drained, but she didn't feel that they had much choice, so they submitted to a second bout of questioning, this one a little quicker than the first.

It was after midnight when the gathering started to break up. As the last of the cousins departed, the news media finally got the message, and began to pack up their equipment too. Mia agreed to sleep in Rory's room since he was in L.A. and would not return until the next afternoon, and after a quiet discussion, Catherine agreed to go with Jim to his apartment.

Just before they left, Jim pulled Ryan aside and placed his hands upon her shoulders, looking into her eyes until she began to feel uncomfortable. "I will never - ever question your love for my daughter again. I know that we'll probably never be friends, but I want you to know that I feel a level of grat.i.tude towards you that I can't even begin to put into words. Thank you," he said, a few tears dotting his cheeks.

She leaned in and gave him a hug, the very first one in their relationship. "She's my life," she said simply, putting a motivation to her heroic actions.

Before departing, Jim called the San Francisco police department and explained his situation. A few minutes later, three squad cars pulled up in front of the house to escort them to the apartment. "Is this necessary?" Catherine asked.

"I don't want to speak to any reporters," he insisted. "They'll keep them away from us until we get into the building."

They said goodnight to everyone, with Jamie worriedly watching as her father and her grandfather practically had to carry her mother down the narrow staircase.

The police escort worked perfectly, and after dropping Charlie off, Jim and Catherine entered the gold-toned elevator of the building just a few minutes later. When they reached the unit, Jim flicked on the television, and was dismayed to see that the story had morphed by the time it had reached CNN. Now the headline was "Senator's daughter taken on wild ride." "Great, just great," he muttered as he sank into the sofa to watch the story. Catherine sat beside him, and he found that his hand was captured by hers as she leaned against his shoulder. Once the announcer made clear that Jamie was his daughter, the story focused more on Ryan's heroics, showing dozens of shots of her hanging onto the car, and a few of her diving repeatedly into the bay. When the footage of Jamie's limp body being lifted into the boat appeared, Catherine buried her head into Jim's chest and cried until she was physically exhausted.

Eventually he got her to her feet, and led her to the second bedroom. She paused in the doorway and asked in a shaking voice, "Will you stay with me? I can't bear to be alone." She looked so fragile and helpless that he would have agreed even if he hadn't felt as great a need for contact himself.

"Let's go in the bigger bedroom," he suggested, and she followed his lead, obviously not in the mood to argue about anything. He started to remove his sweater, but saw that she was standing in the middle of the room, looking completely lost.

Going to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and said, "Let me help you get undressed."

Again, she nodded, looking up at him with grateful brown eyes. Her alcohol intake had been so moderate lately, that the ma.s.sive infusion she had imbibed since the incident began had served to render her more helpless than she could remember being. He removed her sweater, and fumbled with the zipper on her slacks for a moment, finally freeing it and sliding her slacks down her legs. It dawned on him that she had no clothes in the apartment, so he hurriedly unb.u.t.toned his blue dress shirt and handed it to her. She still made no move to help, so he unclasped her bra and slid it from her shoulders, then tossed it aside as he eased her arms into the oversized shirt. He smiled at her as he rolled the sleeves up time and again, finally freeing her small hands.

He kicked off his loafers, and shucked his slacks, then pulled back the covers and guided her in. Unsure of how much contact she wanted, he got into bed on the other side, maintaining a respectful distance until she scooted across the bed and wrapped her body tightly around his.

"She's okay, Cat," he soothed as his hand ran through her hair. "She's home in bed... perfectly safe. Ryan will protect her," he said confidently, realizing with a sharp blow of recognition that Ryan had taken over his role as his daughter's protector - and had performed that role better than he ever could have.

Before she went up to bed, Mia handed Ryan the phone tally. Jamie leaned over her shoulder to review the ridiculously long list, marveling at the sheer number of people who had called.

"Wow, she's from grade school," Ryan murmured as she surveyed the pages. "Cool, the entire volleyball team called. And looks like almost the entire basketball team - wow, even Coach Hayes. I wonder if I broke any rules tonight," she idly mused. "Hey, when did Jordan call?" she asked Mia.

"You were in the shower," she explained. "But she said to tell you she loves you."

"The feeling's mutual," Ryan smiled.

Despite the muscle relaxant, Ryan's body began to stiffen up as the night wore on. After making sure that she took another pill as well as the sleeping pill, Jamie gingerly began to remove Ryan's clothing. There were no obvious injuries on her partner's body, save for sc.r.a.pes and bruises and the swelling and cuts on her cheek and lip, but she winced every time she moved.

"Are you sure you didn't tear a muscle or a ligament?" Jamie worried.

"No. I'm just stiff and sore. There aren't any exercises I do that replicate hanging from a roof rack for an hour," she said with a crooked grin made slightly more crooked by her swollen lip.

Jamie felt her stomach grip again, but she tried to maintain her outward calm. "Maybe we'll have to devise a new workout for you," she mused. "It could be all the rage. Berkeley matrons will be hanging off their SUVs in droves."

"Thanks," Ryan murmured quietly, acknowledging her partner's attempts to normalize the situation.

"Don't mention it," Jamie smiled. She helped Ryan into a turtleneck and sweat pants, a telling concession to the numbing cold she had been forced to endure. She climbed into bed with a grunt, and a sharp intake of air when Jamie curled up against her side. "Come lie on my chest," the smaller woman urged gently.

Rolling onto her side, Ryan placed her head on Jamie's shoulder, letting out a deep sigh in the process. "This is perfect," she hummed in pleasure. "You're the best pillow in the world."

"Everyone would want to be a pillow, if you were the head that rested on them," she said. She held her as tightly as her own bruised ribs would allow, but Ryan was too restless to settle down.

With a frustrated sigh she sat up, gasping a little as she did so. "It's gonna take a lot more than a sleeping pill to knock me out." She sat up against the headboard and drew her knees up, draping her long arms around them and resting her chin atop a knee. "I just can't turn it off."

"The movie?" Jamie asked softly.

Ryan breathed out heavily. "That's what it's like, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Jamie sat up, too, also wincing from the effort. "It's like a really terrifying movie that's on some kinda loop. It just repeats and repeats and repeats."

Nodding quickly, Ryan said, "I bet our movies are different."

"Yeah. I'm sure they are. We had very different experiences."

"In a way, I bet it was easier for me," Ryan mused.

"Yeah, sure," Jamie chuckled. "It's a lot easier hanging off a car in a driving rainstorm."