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“Take it easy,” Quinn told her. “Lia?”

“Yes.” Still on the phone, Lia knelt beside her. “It’s alright, Brooke. You fainted. Paramedics are on the way.”

“I don’t want them.”

“You need them.”

“I don’t want to end up in the hospital again. I don’t want you here!” Brooke raged even as she cried, and tried to push them away.

“You should stay down,” Quinn advised as she scrambled to her feet.

“Leave me alone. Get out of my apartment.”

“No,” Lia said gently but firmly. “Brooke, listen. We can get you some help. I know it’s horrible right now, and it has been for some time. But it stops here. You go up from here.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can!”

“Lia… I am so sorry.”

“I know. Apology accepted. Now we put that stuff behind us and just focus on getting you well again. Would you like to come home with us? We can get you the right treatment, and—"

Lia did not get to finish as Quinn suddenly lunged forward. For a wild, destabilizing second, it occurred to her that she had punched Brooke in the face. But as a loaded syringe shattered onto the floor, she realized that Quinn had just knocked it out of her hand.

“She tried to inject herself,” Quinn said flatly and promptly caught Brooke in her arms as she fainted again. “Damn, Lia! You like them stubborn and wild, don’t you!”

The comment was unexpectedly funny.

“Well,” Lia started. “I—”

“Yeah, don’t answer that. Rather go get the door, as I think I just heard a knock.”

“That’ll be the paramedics.”

“I certainly hope so. We could do with some help here.”

???

The following week started off bright and beautiful. Over the weekend, Lia had worked a few miracles. She was able to speak to Janet, on her way home from her Italian vacation, and get her to recommend a state-of-the-art private clinic in Lewiston. One phone call was enough, with the mention of her name, to smooth out the admission process. Lia also had a long conversation with Brooke, one-to-one, and convinced her it would be for the best. She helped her to write a statement recanting every accusation she had made in her blog, which led to Quinn being re-instated on the spot. Her commander also pushed for an official apology from the mayor, which was swiftly granted.

“I wouldn’t have asked for it,” Quinn reflected as she stood in his office on Monday morning.

“No, I know,” Wilson grunted.

“But thank you for getting me one anyway.”

“Sure thing, Lieutenant.” She saw his lips twitch under his mustache.

He looked amused.

“Something funny about that, sir?” she prompted.

“Well, you might like to know that I was highly motivated. Your Ms. Kennedy made it abundantly clear that she would strip the skin off my butt if I did not push for an official apology for you.”

Quinn blinked in shock and surprise.Oh, God!

“Lia said this…? She talked to you?”