No one interfered. Reed opened the back door and Dane put her in and climbed in with her and I got in the passenger seat, shutting the door as Reed was pulling away from the curb.

The ride to the hospital was too much like the one in Canada, though this one was punctuated with the little girl voice alternately crying and calling for her mommy. I sat with my fist pressed hard against my mouth, horrified on levels I hadn't know I had inside me, desperate for us to reach someone who could help with any of this. It only took three minutes to get to the hospital but it was interminable.

We left the car in the emergency parking zone and Dane once again took her in his arms. In the bright lights she looked a thousand times worse, vomit dried in her hair and ear, and Dane's tears were no longer quiet. He was sobbing so hard it was a wonder he could see where he was going. Reed took him by the elbow and led him to the intake window.

"We just found my sister," he said in clipped words. "She has been missing two weeks. She's a heroin addict, she was clean for nineteen months before this. She has bipolor disorder, dissociative identity disorder, and is off all of her meds. She's likely using heroin, possibly overdosed. She's dissociated right now. She's very ill." His voice faltered on the last word, and he swallowed. Dane sat on the chair next to us for the next window, cradling her on his lap, and Reed observed her almost fearfully. "I'm afraid she's dying," he whispered.

I couldn't look at her again, because the calm I had been maintaining threatened to overwhelm me. I pinched the skin on my stomach hard, twisting it, trying to keep my shit together. You may not lose it when Reed needs you to keep it together, I told myself sternly, the loathing I felt at my own weakness helping strengthen the words. Just fucking keep your shit together!

I could do this one thing for him. Or die trying. Which felt like an option with my chest tight like it was. The stench coming off her made everything so much sadder somehow and I wished I could have cleaned her up first.

They rushed out and put her on a gurney as Reed repeated the information, answering questions easily and concisely as they wheeled her back. He handed me the keys, kissed me on the head, and did the same to Dane before following them as if he belonged.

I brought Dane out to the Jeep, past the curious, half-guilty stares. I folded him into the passenger seat as he cried openly, then got into the driver's seat, adjusted it, and found a spot in short-term parking. The vehicle reeked of the drug house and I opened the windows. 

Reed's cigarettes were on the dash and I got one out, handing it to Dane. He looked at me, unembarrassed in the depths of his grief. "She's going to die, isn't she," he said brokenly.

I thought he was probably right and hoped to Christ he didn't see it on my face. I'd thought that before but had been wrong. "She'll be okay," I told him firmly. I found the little red lighter in the pack and sparked it, making Dane automatically put the cigarette between his lips. I lit it for him and he inhaled deeply, coughing a little.

"They should let her," he said, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. He opened the door and blew his nose on the ground, then pulled it shut. The cold ate away at us but we sat. "Be better for 'er if she just doesn't 'ave to do this anymore," he went on, but this only made him cry harder and I was alarmed at the ferocity of his emotion. Not to mention my inadequacy for dealing with it.

"Shhh," I said, because it was a universal soothing thing. I leaned awkwardly to hug him and he fell into my arms like a little kid. "She'll be okay. They'll fix her. They will. Reed will take care of it. You'll see." Since he looked up to Reed like I did I knew it would help.

After a few minutes he was all cried out and he sat up, unabashed, slumped and desolate. He lit another cigarette and shook his head. "Me, I wasn't born into the greatest family. Mum was a trollop, my pops 'er pimp." He half-laughed. "Was no doubt as I took after 'im, like a copy, I was. Mum was a lush, but we 'ad a little place, not too bad. Sure, she 'ad her johns over and they weren't all that great, I mean sure, they roughed me up a bit, but we did okay. 'Ad food most the time and all."

We of course both knew how much worse it could have been. But also, how much better. 

"'Course, she died, choked on 'er own puke while she was passed out." He took a drag and shook his head again. "I was out on the streets the next day; Pops, 'e didn't 'ave time or inclination for a kid. I asked 'im, bloody 'ell, I begged 'im, just let me earn my keep, pinching this or that. Just give me a chance. Gave me 'is boot on my face, is what 'e did. Bloody useless git. Made my head muzzy for awhile. Intou was on a job three days later and just about stepped on me in the gutter. Soft spot for strays, as you know. Just up and took me wif 'em." H smoked. "I was ten."

I stayed quiet, letting him talk, thinking of the cigarette burns all over him.

He grinned a little, almost automatically. "You know Intou. What 'e wanted to do was find my pops and 'ave a chat, and 'im just seventeen. Ready to take on the world over any injustice."

I smiled too. That was Reed.

"We 'ad the 'ouse at San Luis Obispo, then, and that's where we went. I'd of course never been to the States, everything was so strange. I was so overwhelmed, and still 'ad a bit of a concussion I was recovering from on top of it. I 'ave that sensory integration thing, you know, where everything gets too loud and too much and I can't 'andle it."

"Bella does," I put in, so he didn't have to explain.

He nodded, putting out his cigarette. I hoped he wasn't going to light another one because the smoke was making me sick. I was also frozen to the bone but whatever.

"I 'ad my own room but it was big, and I was small, and . . . " he shrugged. "Ari was there, she used to come in and sleep on my floor." His voice broke on the last word but he was determined to finish. "She didn't talk yet, you know, but that was better for me anyway. She was twelve. I 'ad no idea what she'd been through, but you could tell it was somefink bad, real bad. But 'ere she was comin' in to keep me company, to 'elp me. And there was no, I mean, the Vix was never there, it was all proper; I didn't even know about . . . about that." He shot me a look as if I'd suggested it, when it hadn't even crossed my mind.

If I could line up all the people who hurt children and shoot them, what would I give?

"I understand," I said. The cold was killing me. I held up a finger and leaned into the back to see what I could find. Dane was without a jacket as well, though he was still too worked up to feel the cold yet apparently.

The backseat yielded an old quilt that was practically threadbare, from my house, and a hoodie. I offered him the blanket but he shook his head. "Actually, if we . . . 'ere." He pulled off his own sweatshirt and handed it to me, taking the cold one from my hand. "This one's mine, too, and I fink you'll be warmer wif that one I was wearing," he said matter-of-factly. He donned it and I did the same, instantly stopping the shivering with the warmth of his retained body heat.

"Oh thank God," I said gratefully. "Thanks. Go on." I offered the quilt but he waved me to take it so I wrapped it around myself too. Much better.

"So I 'ad nuffink, and no one, and then I had Ari, and Intou, and Don, and . . . " he faltered, shrugging rather than to say Malone's name. "All these people. Good people. I felt like it was a trick, or a dream, for the longest time. I was like Ari's pet. She would bring me extra cake and chocolate milk, anything chocolate as it was all I wanted. It made 'er 'appy to see me 'appy," he said simply. "If you see."

I did see, probably more than he knew, especially the way his face looked when he spoke of her. He was telling me a love story, his love story. Poor fucking kid.

"Babygirl, it's one of 'er personalities. Only seen 'er twice myself. Sad, isn't she? A little girl, and all." He swallowed. "You know the 'eroin, it's what they gave 'er to keep 'er drugged." His hand formed a fist at this admission, but he relaxed it and took a deep breath. "Not uncommon. Drug the kiddies to keep 'em complacent. 'Eroin's not 'ard to come by there, and it's effective. She's 'ad the addiction ever since. Always goes back to it. Always will." He reached for the cigarettes, his lower lip trembling as he placed one and lit it. I couldn't believe he could have any tears left. He looked at me imploringly. "I love 'er so much, you know? And I can't fix 'er." Bitterness was deep in the words.

"No," I agreed, thinking of Reed. Of Bella. "All we can do is be there for them."

As if brought by my thoughts, Reed appeared next to my window, almost giving me a heart attack. He opened the door, his face haggard. "She will be alright," he said to Dane, and tugged me out, gently guiding me into the backseat with an absent kiss on the back of my hand. I knew he couldn't hug me for fear of losing it completely. He looked like he was holding on by the barest amount but I knew he was doing it for Dane. "We can go home for now."

He called Don, who was still in San Luis Obispo, and filled him in on the drive home. 

Bella was at my house and I was glad. It was only nine when we got home but I gave Dane one of Reed's sleeping pills, along with leftover pizza and hot chocolate. By the time he was done, he was nodding off. Reed basically took him to his room and tucked him in like a little kid and he was out.

I stood in the doorway. He turned to me wearing a mask of grief. I was able to lead him to the couch, where I sat before he knelt with his head in my lap and broke down completely. "It is bad," was all he could say.

Listening to him cry as I smoothed his hair back, his body shaking with it, killed me a little bit. Never had I been so helpless. "She'll be okay, sweetie," I said as reassuringly as I could.

He shook his head, unable to speak.

"Do you know more than you said?" Shrug, head shake. "You just feel like it's bad." Nod. "Yeah, it feels bad. But she'll be okay. She's in the perfect place; they'll take care of her. They'll make her better." I moved my hand over his hair, hoping what I said was true. 

Still he wept, and that in itself was so foreign it made my own tears back off for the moment. I finally made him take a tranquilizer, promising I would keep the phone by me so I would hear if they called. 

Then I got him into our cottage and into bed, where he thankfully passed out right away, and then I cried for a stupidly long time. Because how sad was this fucking day.