It had been a massive risk, even if there was little chance of its detection. Peter, though, recognized that if he couldn’t control Tomás DeSoto, the man became a huge liability, and with Sophie disconnected from the ground server, Peter had nothing to control Tomás. Peter had needed to eliminate further threat. True, in sidelining Tomás, Peter had lost a powerful tool to manage the flow of information and misinformation managing the Deconstruction, but with only a few days left, Peter did not foresee anyone finding his manipulation of DeSoto. And after the event, no one would be able to trace it.

When Peter pulled up the vitals on Tomás DeSoto, the heart monitor showed the occasional stutter, but everything else read normally. Peter had no intention of killing the head of Dragnet if he could help it, but the man had to be incapacitated.

Fortunately, Peter could mask the coma with the heart attack. A man falling inexplicably into a coma would raise some eyebrows. A man in his forties who lapsed into a coma after a heart attack would hardly draw a moment’s attention. Even better, Mr. DeSoto had just suffered an extremely stressful event with Sophie, and though the Wire saved his life, even the Wire couldn’t fix everything. No one should go looking for an explanation before the events in seven days. There would be no need.

Falling into his chair, Peter forced out several breaths until his heartbeat slowed. He had never really doubted his success, but he had to reassure himself that his plan would really happen. All the proper people had been pulled under his influence, and in the next four days, he would gain access to all the satellites that ran the Bridge.

Bad time for a glitch. Who had rebooted Sophie DeSoto? Had it been Tomás himself? Or had he utilized one of his employees, one of his connections?

Peter had pushed the man too far, he realized. Threatened the person Tomás loved and made him desperate. Peter understood that feeling. If he could have stopped Lex’s death, he would have done anything. Though it was too little too late, he was doing now what he would have done then if he had known. For the first time in years, Peter felt the stirrings of anxiety enter his thoughts.

With a dawning idea, he pulled up the Wire that managed so much of Sophie DeSoto’s brain. Tracing back the signal to the time of her reboot, he fished for the little line of code that had brought her back to consciousness. He found it easily, and he started tracing it to the source. Unfortunately, the source ran through some pretty intense firewalls. Of course it does, Peter realized. It’s Tomás DeSoto.

It was why Peter had held most tightly onto his pull over Tomás. While Peter had created the infrastructure of the Bridge, Tomás DeSoto’s company managed the tolls, the barriers that kept one person from gaining free access to another person’s information. Now without the means to go through those tolls, Peter would have to work old school and manage a hack.

In a few minutes, Peter had set up a program to batter against the protection of the link that had almost blown his entire plan. He didn’t have two days, but that’s how long the program would need.

He wasn’t going to sit and wait. If he deduced correctly, Hazel might have information he could use. Only half an hour before the near fiasco with DeSoto, Peter had located Hazel in the man’s house. If someone had helped the DeSotos, Hazel could tell him, and that would tell Peter how much to worry over the next few days.

+++++++++++++

As she approached her apartment, Hazel’s legs dragged, her mind retreating at the surreal sight that rose before her.

“Hazel?” Rel prompted. “What’s going on?”

She raised her hand dreamily and indicated the diminishing column of smoke. “What is that?”

“I noticed it earlier, when I was walking into the DeSotos’ house. Haven’t seen a big fire in years.”

With stuttering breaths, Hazel hugged herself as she stared dazedly at the husk a block away. “It’s my apartment…” Her step faltered, and Rel wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Come here, Hazel. Come here. Sit down with me.” He would be damned if he let some errant chemicals leave Hazel to suffer alone.

Without releasing her, he made his way to some steps that led up to a neighboring building and pulled her down to sit next to him.

“I am so sorry, Hazel. It’s going to be okay.” He rubbed his hand comfortingly on her arm, and Hazel turned her face to bury it in his shirt.

For several minutes, she just cried in her near-silent way. Anyone observing her would have missed the tears, but the wet spot on Rel’s shirt and the occasional shudders informed him of the sad state of his companion.

As he held her, he analyzed the building in an attempt to restrain his mind. Older building, retrofitted anti-fire system. If something were going to burn, it would be in a building like that. Something as simple as a cigarette or a cooking fire could have caused it. Or old wiring, poorly rigged to connect to the advanced systems that ran the Bridge and the infrastructure that depended on it.

“Why is all this happening to me?” she moaned into his shirt.

Leaning back, Rel placed his hands on either side of her face, gently raising her eyes to meet his. “You are going to be okay, Hazel. I know this is absolutely awful, but you are not alone, okay? Sophie is back, and I know Mr. DeSoto will let you stay with him. And you have Peter – he could just buy you a new place, okay? And…and you have Vee and me.” He released her, but she continued to stare at him. “I can’t offer much, and I know you wouldn’t feel comfortable staying at my place for any length of time.” At this point, I would be highly uncomfortable with it. “But I’m sure Vee would let you crash with her. I mean, I actually don’t know anything about her life, but I know she’s kind. And you heard her. She has a hero complex. Okay? Okay?” He raised one hand back to her face. “You are going to be okay. Don’t panic.”

His kindness pulled her back to tears, but they were unburdening tears rather than tears of misery. They ached, but it was an ache that dissipated as she cried, and she leaned against Rel for several more minutes while he just kept his arm around her. With his words, she let herself just cry out her grief until it gave way to, if not hope, the absence of despair. Rel was right. She would be okay.

As she found her strength again, she pulled herself to her feet, and Rel rose beside her, grasping her hand. “Do you want to go see?”

Anxiety tightened her chest, but she nodded. She kept her hand in his – strength seemed to flow from him to her, and she knew she would be okay as long as she held that hand.

Once she could make out the entire scene, it broke her heart. It was devastating. She approached one of her neighbors, squeezing Rel’s hand before pulling away.

“Maria?” Hazel queried, and the tall, slender middle-aged woman turned mechanically, her shell-shocked expression reflecting the inside of Hazel’s mind.

“Oh, Hazel!” the dark-haired woman reached for Hazel and clutched her in a hug with a vice grip. “You were the last one! I am so glad you’re okay,”

“So, everyone is okay?” Hazel wondered hopefully.

“The alarm was surreal. You’ve never heard anything like a Wire alarm going off in your head. No one could sleep through that. And I grabbed old Mrs. Pietra on the way down. We kept standing here waiting for the system to kick in.” The woman turned back to stare at the shell and the rubble. “Instead, the fire managed somehow to keep burning, and now we have stone walls with empty windows…”

Both women stood in silence for a few minutes, but Hazel soon turned and offered the woman a departing hug. “I’m ecstatic that you’re okay and that everyone got out. Can I send you my contact in case you need anything? Maybe I can put together a place for everyone to sleep tonight.” She pulled out her handheld.

“Everyone has friends or family for now – Mrs. Pietra is staying with me at my sister’s. You are always kind, Hazel. I have your contact now, and I will let you know if anyone needs anything. You let me know, too, okay.”

“Of course,” Hazel agreed.

Part of her wanted to turn away and try to pretend like everything was normal, but that would accomplish nothing. She had plans to make, and somehow, she believed that seeing the truth would help her plan better for what she would face in the future.

Throwing Rel a glance, she started for the building, and he followed her, his long legs catching up in a couple of strides. There was tape cordoning off the building but when Rel sent the emergency workers his credentials, they let him pass with Hazel.

“Thanks,” she offered Rel a grateful smile and then continued to the side of the building.

For the time being, there didn’t seem to be any danger of the walls falling, but Rel would keep his eye out just in case.

Hazel peered into a ground floor window, staring openmouthed at the patches of light created by the slowly descending sun through the panes above. Smoke pooled and eddied in strange patterns as competing drafts of air from broken windows twisted around the interior of the building.

Honestly, she couldn’t believe the sheer amount of ash. Partially burned paper and cloth and splintered wood beams, singed in varying patterns along their broken lengths. A few beams held their futile position, a monument to their failure at fighting forces too powerful for them to withstand. With a shiver, Hazel turned away and stepped as close to Rel as she dared without reaching beyond propriety.

Rel made her feel safe. The building terrified her. Since her mom had moved halfway across the country, she didn’t really have a source of stability besides Peter. And Peter was anything but stable. Rel stiffened at her approach, but he didn’t move away. Whatever she had read from him, maybe it was just compassion and not the attraction that pulled her toward him. At this point, I’m willing to settle for compassion rather than be alone.

Disappointment scratched at her comfort, but the day had just proven too hard for her to be choosy in her friends. Maybe Rel was the safest option at the moment. Whether he was offering sympathy or just hanging onto her to get information for his investigation, at least she didn’t have to worry that he would shove her up against a wall and try to kiss her. She laughed at herself as a slight thrill ran over her skin at the image. I’m an idiot, she shook her head.

“Let me get you some dinner,” Rel offered, “and then we can stop at a store and pick you up a change of clothes or something.”

Sighing, Hazel clasped her hands together, staring up at the sky. She did not want to ask Peter to let her crash on his couch – that would not be what he wanted. But could she really impose on Mr. DeSoto, after what the man had been through? Plus, Mr. DeSoto meant whatever eyes and ears were watching him would also be watching her. No thank you, she contended.

“We’ll get some dinner,” she agreed. “But I have a change of clothes at Peter’s.”

“Okay,” Rel hummed, trying to rein in his chagrin. He should never have let himself grow so wedded to the idea that she didn’t want Peter’s attentions. What could Rel offer her at the moment anyway, what with his body raging worse than a teenage boy at a lingerie fashion show. “Do you have everything you need at Peter’s?” he prodded. “I could still pick you up a few things.”

“I have enough for now,” she shrugged. “I stayed with him a lot right after the Crash, and I had left a drawer of clothes at his old place. When he moved, he just boxed it up and took it with him.”

“You don’t need to justify anything to me.”

Hazel shot a glance at Rel. Is that what her explanation had sounded like? Even when she tried to stay indifferent to Rel, apparently her thoughts connected with him on a personal level. “Of course I don’t,” she feigned disinterest. “But I want to. I’m kind of short on friends right now, floating around without an anchor, and you’re…kind of like an anchor. I don’t want to get too far away from you. I guess I’ve decided you’re not a stalker.” A weak smile lifted her lips, though she didn’t meet his gaze.

Rel didn’t know what to say. Not that he hadn’t hoped she liked him, but an anchor? That was a pretty big responsibility. How was he going to manage it if people kept screwing with his brain? “Is that a joke about my size? You want a tall friend?” he managed.

“My joke would have been significantly better than that,” she grinned. “And I don’t want to put pressure on you or anything. I just need someone to talk to who can see outside of my life. Because the people in my life and the things that have given me stability have just evaporated. Even if you just keep me close because I’m a good source, keep me close.”

Instead of going to one knee in front of her and serenading her like he wanted to, Rel just said, “Okay.”

Finally, Hazel looked up at him, and she managed a smile as they entered the restaurant. For now, at least, drug-addled haze had faded, and Rel breathed a sigh of relief. Since they had known each other, they had always needed to manage some crisis, but as they relaxed into the meal, their conversation did not involve comas or plots or infrastructure. Instead, they discussed Trip and what it was like for Hazel to play games for a living, about Rel’s transition from field agent to analyst, about growing up in the city versus childhood in the rurant quarter. Both of them laughed a lot, and Hazel almost forgot her troubles for a while.

When the last dish cleared away, they both stood, and Hazel turned to stare at their reflection in the glass, the darkening night barely discernible through the window. She didn’t want to go see Peter, and her hand reached absentmindedly to grab her phantom ponytail.

“Why do you do that?” Rel queried, resisting the urge to reach up and run his fingers through her hair at the spot.

“What?” Hazel wondered, turning to him with a look of confusion.

“You reach up to your neck like you’re going to grip something – something that’s not there.”

For several seconds, Hazel stared back at her reflection in the giant window, rubbing her shoulder at the vacant spot he had mentioned. “When the Crash happened, I was close to my dad’s work. My school was only a block from his building site. After several of my older classmates dropped to the ground, I processed what had happened. Back then, the Pins were much rarer, and we all knew who had them. Only the kids with Pins dropped. I just – I knew the Pins had caused it, and my dad had one. While everyone else was scrambling around trying to set up triage for the students, all I could think of was my dad.”

She grew silent again, and Rel didn’t press. He hadn’t expected something so personal.

“I sprinted the block to the site. It was chaos. Fifteen men had passed out on the construction site, and at least three had fallen. They didn’t even stop me when I ran in because they were too busy with the disaster, the collapse of several stacks of materials. One man dangled from a rope affixed to the scaffolding. When I found my dad, halfway down a mound of dirt, he was unconscious. He had only fallen from the third story, but the mound contained bits of stone and brick and metal refuse, and my father’s head was bleeding. I scrambled the five feet up and tried to slide him down without smashing him against the stones. As we slid – it was only a few feet – my hair got tangled in some mangled rebar, and my slide stopped. My father flew unfettered down onto the ground. Probably, his head injury was so bad from falling that the few feet slide down a soft mound did no more harm, but I haven’t been able to escape the guilt. By that time, some of the men had seen me and came to help, but my dad didn’t make it. I cut my hair that night – just grabbed my scissors and chopped it off.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault.”

Hazel offered no reply for a few seconds. “I’ve found that concentrating all my guilt and misery into that moment when my hair snagged lets me forget everything else about that day. I reach for my hair, it’s gone, my mind goes blank. I don’t remember seeing my dad in that rubble.”

Watching the lambent melancholy wash across her countenance, Rel had to fight his arms to stay by his side. More than anything, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and squeeze away the ache that brought that expression – and not because of an artificial hormone rush. Rel had suffered some things in his life, but nothing that seemed to compare to Hazel’s experience.

Instead of holding her, though, he just reached for her hand and held it, willing her to take his strength. He closed his eyes against the compulsion to press his skin against hers, assuring himself that the boost had come in response to the DeSotos house. The mind game with himself mostly worked. Still, everything within him wanted at least to kiss her, and it wasn’t the appropriate time, even if he could have known she would welcome the connection. No matter what forces churned inside him, he needed to give himself space for certainty.

Regardless of his high intent, though, Rel knew one thing: Peter Donovan had tried to stake a claim on Hazel, because that was definitely the way the man thought about her, but Hazel Hops seemed unconvinced despite all the consequence of her best friend’s position. You’re kind of an anchor…Well, if that’s what she needed, then Rel would just have to figure out how to calm the storm raging inside himself so he could accomplish the task she had set him. When she walked out of the café, he headed toward the Bureau on a mission to find out what was happening to him and how to stop it.

+++++++++++++++++

As Sophie DeSoto tried to force her eyes open, her ears processed several sounds that needed clarification. For one, several unknown voices met her ears, and they spoke in such a clinical tone that it churned her stomach to hear. Too, there were steady beeping noises, and they seemed like hospital monitors, but if someone’s heart was beating with that uneven tempo, the person would have some serious arrhythmia, and alarms should be sounding.

Finally, she managed to peel her lids apart, and she found herself staring at the ceiling. Had she been asleep? As one of the monitor sounds sped up, the nearby voices rose and sped, and Sophie tried to turn her head, a motion that her body rebelled against. It seemed to rebel against any motion.

A woman appeared in Sophie’s view, a tall woman with ebony hair and a plastered-on smile. “It is so good to see you awake,” the woman gushed.

Once more of the woman came into view, Sophie recognized hospital scrubs, and she sent her eyes roaming around the familiar room to see if she had interpreted her surroundings incorrectly. Nope, my house. My living room. My bed is in the living room.

Behind the woman, a mob of other medical personnel seemed intent on whatever they were doing. Sophie searched her mind. The last thing she remembered, she and Hazel had fought. Had something happened after that? Some accident that had knocked Sophie out?

“Where’s Hazel?” she demanded. “Is she okay?”

“That’s the young woman who comes to visit you, I believe. As far as I know, she is quite well.”

“Where is she? I want to see her.” Sophie tried to sit up, but her body fought to keep her on the bed. “Why can’t I move?”

“You can, sweetheart, your body is just really weak. Why don’t you start smaller? See if you can move your hand.”

As Sophie squeezed her hand into a fist, she realized that the mob of humans had crossed the room and were moving toward her dad’s room.

“Who are all those people?” Sophie questioned.

“Those are the medical personnel who have been tending to you for that last little bit.”

Sophie’s eyes refocused on the nurse, because that is what the woman seemed to be. “How long have I been in this bed?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Nothing after I argued with Hazel. I just was arguing with her, then I woke up here. But there’s missing time. Where is Hazel?”

“Can you contact her on the Stream?”

Sophie tried to access the Stream, but her Wire seemed sluggish, like she had wandered into a dead zone from the satellite signal. “No, but I could if I could get to that computer.”

After she sent a message to Hazel, Sophie would send one to her father as well. Surely, no matter what kind of “important man” he was, he would want to know that his daughter was okay.

I’m awake, Hazel. Come see me, please?

As if to mock her words, Sophie found that the exertion of leaning up enough to type had stripped her of her energy, and she closed her eyes in exhaustion as soon as she relaxed onto the bed. “You watch that message box like you watch my monitors,” she commanded the nurse. “If Hazel answers, tell me as soon as I wake up.”

The last words came out a bit slurred as Sophie drifted back to sleep.