Disclaimer: See initial chapter.

A/N: It has been awhile since I've worked on this, so I hope that this chapter does not disappoint, or seem discordant with the rest of what has been written for this story. Thank you to those who've reviewed, and favorited/followed. You've encouraged me to continue with this story, and for that, I am grateful.

The nurse turned her formidable gaze on Belle, who mustered as much of a smile as she could under the impressive twin glares she was getting from both Mr. Morgan and the night nurse. It had been a long, emotionally grueling day, and she wasn't feeling all that great. Belle steeled herself to fight for the young man who was still being clutched firmly to Mr. Morgan's chest.

Damian's hair was plastered to his much too pale face by rainwater and sweat. He had a pained look in his eyes, and Belle once more questioned her decision to find the young man and ease her own guilt by telling him the truth.

There's no going back now, Belle thought, and she drew herself up to her full height. "Might I suggest that Mr. Spinelli at least be given a bed?"

She was surprised, given the way the young man looked, that it hadn't already been suggested. Belle knew the ins and outs of ER rooms, almost as well as she knew the back of her hand – she'd faked plenty of aches and illnesses in her lifetime, getting prescriptions for medications that she didn't need to feed her addiction.

The nurse, Epiphany Johnson, her nametag read, didn't even blink. She stood and towered over Belle, who refused to back down. Belle might not be Damian's true mother, but she felt a need to get him the help that he needed, if for nothing else, than to relieve the guilt she felt for the injury he received when she'd inadvertently frightened him.

Belle wondered if there was any truth to the claim that guilt ate away at people like a cancer, and if that is why she was dying – because of her guilt. She wondered if she made amends – as the literature for the twelve-step program she belonged to recommended, and her sponsor demanded – would that enough to make her well? The doctors had said that the cancer was inoperable. That it was in its final stages, but what did they know?

Miracles happened every day – or at least that's what Karen had said when they'd been at the Clinic together, and that's what Belle's sponsor, Jessica, had told her over the past three years. Belle hadn't much believed in them, she'd had little in her life that led to belief in miracles, or in a God who performed them.

To her, God was a stern, demanding overseer, ever frowning down on the world, looking for someone – like her – to quash, or fault for wrongdoing. Never satisfied, God was always unhappy with her. It had been hard for Belle to find, and then trust in a Higher Power.

Truth was that she was still finding it difficult. Belle didn't want to die, and she didn't understand what kind of God, or Higher Power, or whatever it was that was in control of the universe, could have allowed her baby to die. What kind of God just stood idly by, watching while His creations suffered? What kind of God would allow a young, hurting girl to kidnap an innocent baby? What kind of God would give her cancer?

Belle pushed her whirling thoughts aside, because this wasn't supposed to be about her. It wasn't supposed to be about what she needed or wanted, and she really wanted a drink or a fix right now. She'd have to call Jessica before the night was over.

"I don't think that anyone doubts that you've got a great hospital staff here, Nurse Johnson," Belle said breathily, "but we're worried about Mr. Spinelli, and he did lose consciousness. I've also told him something which has no doubt contributed to his current state of confusion. Can we please get him a room in the ER?

The nurse eyed her coolly, and her jaw twitched. She snapped her fingers, and an orderly appeared at her side. Belle wondered if the woman had supernatural gifts, but wisely kept her thoughts to herself. Belle highly doubted that Nurse Johnson would take too kindly to the suggestion that she was a witch.

"Malcolm," Nurse Johnson instructed the young orderly, who looked as though he was half-terrified of the nurse. "Please escort Mr. Morgan and his charge to room 111. I'll be there as soon as I page doctors Drake and Scorpio." The smile that the nurse gave the orderly was almost kind.

Mr. Morgan stood, and grunted as he hefted Damian Spinelli in his arms, and Belle wondered at the strength of the man. She eyed him closely as he strained beneath the younger man's weight, and her breath caught in her throat as she recalled Karen's description of the boy's father: blue eyes that sparkle like sapphires, a smile that could move mountains, and a body built like a Greek god.

Belle's heart hammered in her chest as she quickly followed after Mr. Morgan. She paid no heed to Nurse Johnson, or the dark-haired woman who'd accompanied Mr. Morgan when he'd come for Damian. They called to her, but she ignored them in favor of cataloguing every feature of the strange, abrasive man who held her, no, Karen's, boy so protectively. Could it be that Mr. Morgan was Damian's father?

Jason was reluctant to release his hold on Spinelli. He knew that he was being irrational, that both Epiphany and Malcolm would take good care of the injured young man, but Jason was worried that, if he let go of Spinelli, something bad might happen.

Jason laid Spinelli down on the hospital bed, but he refused to completely relinquish his hold on him. He kept a hand on Spinelli's, and squeezed it when Spinelli turned his head. Spinelli's eyes widened in panic when they caught sight of Belle, and, though Jason wanted to turn toward the woman and order her out of the room, he kept his focus on Spinelli.

"Spinelli, it's okay," Jason assured the younger man, leaning close, and holding the younger man's gaze with his own. "She can't hurt you anymore."

"She took me," Spinelli said in a voice that made him sound much younger than he actually was. It gave Jason goose bumps. "I'm not Spinelli."

"Spinelli." Jason ignored the way that Spinelli's mouth twisted angrily, and he held fast to Spinelli's hand when the younger man tried to pull away from him.

"Listen to me," Jason said sternly, waiting until Spinelli's eyes were locked on his once again. "Whatever she's told you," he gestured behind himself toward where he thought Belle might be standing, "don't believe it, okay? You are Damian Spinelli. My roommate. My friend. Someone I care about. She doesn't know you, Spinelli, I do." Jason squeezed Spinelli's fingers in his own, not liking how cold they felt.

Jason hoped that he was speaking the truth, and that this woman, whoever the hell she was, meant nothing to Spinelli, or he to her. Spinelli had never spoken of a Belle before, and Jason couldn't remember having heard anything about a woman in Spinelli's life other than Maxie, Lulu, and his grandmother.

"But…" whatever Spinelli had been about to say was cut off by a moan, and then Jason was being pushed and pulled away from Spinelli very efficiently by Epiphany and Malcolm.

"Jason," Robin's voice cut through the dull ringing in Jason's ears, as he fought to maintain his hold on Spinelli's fingers. Jason tried to shrug Robin's hand off his arm when she placed it there, but she refused to be shaken, and her fingernails bit into his flesh, making him wince and turn from Spinelli to glare at her.

Robin raised a single eyebrow at him, matching his glare with one of her own, and Jason looked away. "Jason, let me examine Spinelli."

Jason stepped to the side, but kept his eyes trained on Robin, watching her every move. He paid little heed to Belle, though he could sense her hovering just on the edge of the room. He knew that Sam was keeping an eye on the woman, and that she wouldn't let Belle out of her sight, but her presence made him more than just a little uncomfortable, particularly because it seemed to be disturbing Spinelli.

"You can leave now," Jason said, not taking his eyes off of Spinelli and Robin. "I think we can all agree that you've caused enough trouble." Jason resisted the urge to turn around and bodily throw Belle out of the room when the woman remained where she was.

Spinelli flinched when Robin shined a light into his eyes, and Jason's hands curled into fists. Robin's frown and quick, but tight smile in response, only made Jason feel that much more worried. The woman who'd been the cause of all of this was still in the room, and he wasn't going to stand by and let her stay and continue to cause Spinelli pain.

Jason turned, and advanced on Belle. She was a small woman, at least three feet shorter than Jason, a few inches shorter than Sam. She refused to back down, and so did Jason.

"It's time for you to leave." Jason reached for Belle's arm, but she pulled away.

"I'll leave when I'm good and ready to leave, and that won't be until I know that Mr. Spinelli is alright," Belle said, squaring her shoulders. If it weren't for her sallow skin and the dark circles under her eyes, Jason would've grabbed her, woman or not, and shoved her from the room.

"Stone Cold, don't." Spinelli's voice was weak, and pained as he struggled to sit up despite Robin's hand on his chest. "She's the only one who knows the truth."

Jason frowned at his roommate, but he directed his question to Belle. "What's he talking about? What do you know?"

"Who Mr. Spinelli's real mother and father are," Belle said. Jason didn't like the way she smiled at him or the way that she insinuated herself between him and Spinelli's hospital bed.

"I thought…that is…" Spinelli's face scrunched up in confusion and he reached for his head, closing his eyes against a sudden onset of pain.

Jason pushed Belle out of the way in his haste to get to Spinelli and protect him from the woman. He didn't care if she did know the truth of Spinelli's parentage, right now she was only causing Spinelli more pain, and that was not something he would allow.

"Get out," Jason hissed at Belle, and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Sam had grabbed Belle and was pulling her out of the room. He ignored the woman's protests, and focused his attention on Spinelli, who was breathing heavily, in and out of his mouth, as though trying to keep himself from getting sick.

"She's gone now," Jason said, smoothing Spinelli's hair back. "Lie down." He helped Spinelli lie back against the pillow.

Spinelli's face was pinched with pain, and he was much too pale.

"Is he going to be okay?" Jason turned to look at Robin, and didn't like the frown that she gave him in lieu of an answer.

"I think that Patrick should take a look at him," Robin said, "just to be certain. I think a CT scan might be necessary, but I can't be sure. He's got a concussion, but I want to rule out any hemorrhaging, or contusions."

Jason nodded, and drew in a deep breath. He smiled at Spinelli when the younger man gave him a slightly panicked look. Jason felt something stir inside of him, and he grasped Spinelli's hand and patted it. His heart twisted when Spinelli gave him a grateful look, as though he trusted Jason with his life.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you," Jason promised.

"Wish you were my father," Spinelli murmured, and then his eyelids fluttered.

Spinelli's body tensed and stiffened as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and, before Jason could even call out to him, he was pushed aside by Epiphany and Robin. Jason could only watch in a numb sort of horror as the rails of the bed were lowered and doctor and nurse worked in tandem to bring Spinelli back.

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