An hour and a half later, they were all in the CIA piloted troop plane, on the way back to the States.

Natalia's body lay at the far end. Mickey was kneeling over her, his rosary wrapped around one hand, his other on Natalia's brow. Nobody said anything as he prayed over her.

Deborah was sitting at the end of one of the benches, her hands fisted between her knees. Her eyes were firmly trained on the ground. Mickey pulled the blanket back over Natalia's face and sat next to Deborah. Close enough to offer some comfort, but far enough away that she could have her space.

Barney watched her closely. He was almost sure of it now, but he needed Tool's confirmation.

"You ever find out about what happened to Ruth Prcic?" he didn't bother lowering his voice. Deborah's head snapped up, her eyes were wide. Mickey had stiffened, too, his pale eyes locking on Barney.

Tool rubbed his face, obviously exhausted.

"Yeah, brother, I did." Tool was obviously unconcerned that he held the attention of the entire plane. "She stayed with Senator Fuckhead for about a year before he dumped her into the system. Couldn't handle the trauma that came with her," Tool sneered disgustedly, "She went through about a dozen foster families. They couldn't handle her either. She turned eighteen and all record of her stops because she changed her name."

"That's the girl from '89, right?" Hale asked curiously.

"What'd she change it to?" Toll wondered. Tool's eyes slid over Deborah and she bit out a harsh oath as she tore to her feet, running a furious hand through her hair.

"I can hazard a guess," Molly murmured, her eyes never leaving the older woman, "Deborah Martin."

Deborah turned livid eyes onto the red head.

"Don't fucking pretend to know me, Little Wolf. You have no fucking idea-"

"No, I'm pretty sure I do," Molly said calmly, unfazed by the livid Texan, "You never wanted the pain you felt to be inflicted on any other child. And everybody knew your name, so you created a new identity and tried to save the world on your own. And now you're broken because the world breaks everybody. And nobody else is strong enough to stand with you," Molly said simply. Deborah's eyes were over bright with tears. "And I'm so sorry for that, Deborah."

Deborah didn't say another word the entire flight home, but she felt everybody's eyes on her. They were pitying.

Drummer and Church met them at the landing field.

"Jesus Christ, Martin," Drummer shook his head when he saw the small, wrapped body in Gunnar's arms. "What the hell-"

"It's not a good time to test me now, Max Drummer. If anything else comes up, your fucking lackeys can handle it. Don't call me," Deborah warned in an empty voice.

That made the old man shut his mouth. He didn't object when Deborah and Mickey grabbed their duffels and left the landing strip.

"Barney, maybe you can shed some light on why I've got a dead mafia princess and a broken mercenary?"

"She's broken because she's carried the guilt of all the unsaved children for too damn long, Agent Drummer. You need to find some other people to go after kids, because she isn't going to last much longer," Molly said evenly. Drummer stared at her, unblinkingly.

"You know, Mrs. Timmons, I admire a woman who can be so brave in the face of losing a child," Church said coldly. Barney felt ice rush down his spine, but Molly narrowed her eyes.

"Is Gabriel-" Christmas started.

"Gabriel's fine. It's none of your goddamn business, Church. Why don't you go stop a coup and leave us alone for a few months," Molly sneered.

"So, what was he talking about?" Barney asked as they headed for their parked vehicles. Molly's face was carefully blank.

"I miscarried, about a week ago. I was eight weeks along," Molly said bluntly. Barney closed his eyes.

"Christ, Booker," he shook his head, his heart twisting a bit.

"I wasn't going to stay here on my ass, Barney," she said firmly. Barney glanced at her. He could see Billy waiting outside of their truck, a gurgling Gabriel in his arms. "You should go and see her."

Barney knew without asking whom she was speaking of.

"Molly, the last thing she's going to want is to see me."

"You saved her once, Barney...Maybe you can do it again," Molly gave him a brief, one armed hug before limping towards her husband. "I'm glad you're not dead, boss."

Billy gave Barney a smile before embracing his wife tightly.

It wasn't hard to track Deb down. Barney knocked heavily on the hotel door. Mickey opened it, his hair damp. He wore a pair of flannel pants and a white t shirt. Barney could see the black of his tattoos under the thin material.

Mickey said nothing as he opened the door wider.

"I'm jus' across the hall... She's not doin' so well," Mickey stepped out past him. Barney felt panic twist his gut. What could he say to her? She was Deborah Martin, the devil may care mercenary who gave this Life her everything. But she was also Ruth Prcic, that little girl who had watched so emptily as men died before her.

Barney stepped into the room but didn't see her. He peered into the open bathroom door. Deborah sat in the tub, wearing nothing but an overlarge t shirt and a pair of black briefs. A half empty bottle of Jack hung limply in her hands. Her eyes were watery. Whether it was from the alcohol or emotion, Barney didn't know.

Warily, he sat on the closed toilet seat and clasped his hands in front of him. Deborah stared at him, her head leaning against the wall.

"The last time I saw you, Barney Ross, I was tied to my dead brothers and you were killing the men responsible for my mother's death. I was nine years old and my world was destroyed," Deborah said roughly. "Sometimes, I wish I would have died...Sometimes, I think the children would be better off dead, too."

"Don't say that," Barney shook his head, "It's always worth the fight. And you do good, Martin."

She shook her head.

"You don't know the things those children are put through, Barney... I see them and I take them home, and give them back to their parents, and all I can think about is how miserable their lives will be."

"But they have lives, thanks to you," Barney reminded.

"Sad, haunted lives. They won't ever be whole again. What kind of existence is that, Barney?" she turned her sad, drunken eyes to his and he felt a lump in his throat. Deborah took another swig from the bottle and closed her eyes.

"And they rely on me, in my drunken stupor, to save them. What kind of world do we live in, Barney, when I'm the only person willing to stand for them?"

"A broken one," Barney reached out and took the bottle from her hand. He took a long drink before handing it back.

Deborah smiled sadly at him.

They sat in that bathroom in the seedy little hotel for most of the night, lamenting the cruelties of life and sharing what was left of the alcohol.

It was four o'clock in the morning before Deborah passed out. Barney drug the comforter off the bed and draped it over her form in the bath tub. He barely managed to drag himself to the stripped bed before he lost consciousness as well.

The sun was streaming through the dirty windows when the hotel door opened. Barney stirred, trying to rouse himself from the heavy, mind numbing alcohol.

By the time he pried his eyes open, Mickey had situated himself in the chair in the corner of the room. He cut a slice of red apple off and put it in his mouth.

"Mornin', Barney," the Irishman greeted. Barney groaned. His head throbbed. It had been a long time since he'd drank like that. "Debbie share her Jack with ye?" he wondered.

"What time is it?" Barney grumbled.

"Oh, 'round eleven. Yer medic called, invited us for breakfast. Wanted ta know if I'd seen ye. She was miffed ye weren't answerin' yer phone," Mickey announced. Barney closed his eyes.

Of course, Molly would befriend the Irishman. She liked crazy.

"I'm gonna wake Deb up," he said, standing. A moment later, he heard the water turn on and Deborah shriek a curse. Mickey ducked out of the bathroom, grinning.

Half an hour later, they were pulling into Molly's driveway. Barney saw everybody else's motorcycles and trucks already parked.

Billy opened the door and grinned.

"Good to see you, boss," he shook Barney's hand enthusiastically. Barney had to smile back. Billy's happiness was infectious.

"Billy, this Deb Martin and Mickey O'Shea."

"Nice to meet you," Billy shook their hands, "Come on in," he stood aside to let them in. The kitchen/dining area was filled with clean cut mercenaries. Deborah hardly recognized them in their civvies.

"Jesus, Barney, you're too old to stay out drinking half the night. You're going to kill your liver," Molly commented from her place by the stove. She had a flowery apron on and her hair was tied back. Gabriel rested on her hip. The child was bouncing and writhing excitedly. "Kid, you're going to make me drop you," Molly warned her son sternly. He gave her a toothless grin.

"Why don't you focus on cooking, Molly, and let him come to Uncle Tool," the man took the baby from Molly, making faces at him. Molly rolled her eyes.

"I tell you, Deborah, don't ever cook for a man, or they'll start to expect it," Molly sighed heavily. That startled a small smile from the jaded woman.

"Tool, you be gentle with my baby!" Molly barked.

"Do ya need any help?" Deborah asked politely. Molly glanced over her shoulder.

"Rescue my baby from those gorillas?" Molly suggested, "Hand him over to the responsible one, Tool!" Molly ordered. Tool sulked but did as she bade.

Molly was, after all, the one feeding them.

Deborah looked down at Gabriel's brown eyes. He let out a jubilant laugh as he grabbed a hold of her shirt with his chubby little hand.

Perhaps not all was broken in this world.

A/N: And that's all, folks!

Thank you guys so much for sticking around with me and reading this. Seriously, you're awesome.