The first time he had called her, he'd severely wished the bullet in his gut had killed him.

Calling a woman in the middle of the night for anything was humiliating; and Billy wasn't asking for just anything. He was asking for help.

Now, you have to imagine the kind of agony a man like Billy Darley would have to be in for him to do something so needy. It wasn't something he did lightly. He had tried to get over the pain and just lie there, wait it out like the stupid, proud man he was, but eventually survival told him to reach out to someone.

The first person he thought of was Bodie. Too bad Bodie was dead. All of his friends were dead. That thought only made him hurt worse, so Billy had focused on thinking up a new name.

That's when he'd thought of Mary.

She was a neighbor he'd met once or twice over the span of three years, their paths crossing in the halls every so often. Billy had jumped her car for her once, and she'd been a sweet, timid girl. The kind he didn't really bother thinking about most of the time. Sweet wasn't his deal. In fact, he preferred very unlady-like ladies. Which is why Mary's number had gone unused after she'd given it to him.

Funny how that number had managed to stay in his wallet all that time, because it was his salvation. Sweet was what he desperately needed. Someone kind, caring. The kind of person who picked up your newspapers when they noticed them piling up outside your door.

Needless to say, Billy knew Mary was the perfect person to call. So he did. He called and she answered in less than three rings.

"Mary…" His entire body hurt, and talking only made him feel like putting the barrel of a gun in his mouth.

"Hello?" She sounded frightened, as she should be. The man on the other end of the phone was exactly the kind of man that she didn't need in her life. He was a bad man, a selfish, cruel person who didn't deserve her mercy or her help. Billy swallowed as his hatred and anguish forced tears from the corners of his eyes. His throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper as he tried to speak again. But, thankfully, she jumped back in. "Billy, is that you?"

"Mary." He fought to focus his air, keep enough in his lungs to make a sentence fit together. It had been a long while since he'd managed to get back from the office. Nick Hume had done him a disservice when he had decided to not finish him off. The man might have thought Billy a goner, but it seemed that he wasn't ready to die. Not even with half his right hand missing, a hole in his side, and a chunk out of his elbow. He was a stubborn man, in all things. Dying too, apparently.

"Billy? Are you okay?" Her voice wasn't frightened anymore, but worried. It almost soothed him, hearing concern in someone's voice for him. He hadn't heard that since…

"No." He grunted into the phone. "I need you."

Billy knew he'd made the right decision, because he didn't have to even force out a please. Her response was immediate.

"I'm coming."

The thing about their apartment building is this: the halls are loud. You sneeze in the hallway and all your neighbors know about it. So when Mary came running to his door, Billy heard her loud and clear. He hadn't bothered to lock the door, or even close it probably. He'd been too concerned with getting onto his couch. Anyway, she seemed to walk right in and he didn't open his eyes when he heard her arrive at his side. The light from the hall hurt too much.

Breathing hurt too much.

"Oh my god." Her voice was wispy and slightly weepy, so Billy figured she had a good idea of how close to death he was. The blood all over his floor was probably a decent indication of the severity of his wounds also. "Billy you need a hospital, holy shit your hand…" Mary's voice cut off for a second and he lifted an eyelid to catch a glimpse of her. Yeah, her face was as pale as a sheet and her hands were shaking at her sides. He probably looked like a fresh corpse.

"No hospital." He grunted out, choking on the hot pain that was scalding up from his abs. If he ended up in a hospital, he'd just spend the rest of his life in a jail. Now that wasn't worth living through hell for. Mary's face moved in closer and he sighed a little.

"You will die." She might have been scared to death, and moments from puking her guts out somewhere, but her words were firm. "Billy, listen to me, you need to go to—"

"No. Hospital." He pushed the words from his lungs and clamped his eyes closed from the pain. "Promise me." The wheezy plead was garbled, probably from blood. Swallowing, Billy tasted iron and his chest tightened with panic. He was coughing blood, which meant he didn't have much time left. "There's a guy…" A shot of adrenaline made it easier to frantically whisper, even though the fire in his ribs grew hotter. Mary moved closer, her breath brushing across his forehead.

"Please let me get you help." She was crying. Shit. He tried to look at her, but his head was screaming. Mary's voice was so heartbreaking; he was torn in half. Again.

"Phonebook. Pete's Body and Repair." The only reason Billy hadn't called Pete was this: Pete belonged to Bones. It was probably out by now that Bones was dead…and it didn't take much to put together who'd done it. Hell, he'd been stupid enough to leave his father on the very corner he'd been on all night.

Two plus two equals…

"Okay…okay…" Mary was still crying, but she was scampering across the living room anyway. Maybe she was lying, getting on the phone to call an ambulance. Didn't matter. If she did, he wouldn't be able to stop her. "Pete's Body and Repair?" Billy wondered if her voice would be the last he'd hear. That didn't sound like such a bad thing, really. Mary had a soft voice, but not ditsy high or anything. It was actually a lower sound, something he hadn't noticed before. Probably because she hadn't said much to him before.

Jesus, he'd really overlooked her hadn't he? And now she was saving his goddamn life.

Maybe.

"Okay, I've got it. Pete's, right? Billy?" She was racing back to him and Billy forced himself to open his eyes.

"Call." Mary's face was streaked with frightened tears, and if Billy hadn't felt like every part of him was being torn from his body, he would have wiped them away. It was unfair, what he was doing to her. But he wanted to live. So badly. Her fingers danced across a cell phone and then her pale face was pressed to the device as a mechanical ring filled the silence.

Billy was gambling here, calling Pete. The guy could justifiably hang up and let him die out of respect for Bones. Or he could show up just to put another slug in his ass. But if Mary called, and did exactly what she was doing, Pete's heart might soften. After all, Bones was dead. His good graces weren't worth much anymore.

"Yes, um, my name's Marianne and I'm a friend of Billy Darley…" Billy winced at the word 'friend'. He wasn't much of a friend to anyone. But it sounded nice, hearing her call him a friend. What had he done to deserve her kindness?

A voice was replying to her frantic words and Billy hoped the idiot on the line knew to hand over the phone to Pete. If he bled out while some moron gave Mary a hard time, he'd haunt the son of a bitch.

Thankfully, it seemed the message had been received.

"Is he a doctor?" Mary asked him gently, her eyes shining. God she was brave, but so naive. She lived in Southie for fuck's sake. She should know that not everything is what it seems.

"Not. Anymore." Billy managed to answer her question before a new voice crackled over the phone. Mary listened intently and Billy let his eyes slip closed.

"He's in bad shape. Please, he needs—" There was more noise cutting her off, then she took a rushed breath. "What?" Billy knew what they had to be telling her: things that could turn her against him. He'd killed his own father; he kind of deserved to be left to die, really.

"Mary." He groaned, praying that she'd stay on his side. For now at least. He needed her and she was all he had.

"He's fucking dying!" She shouted so loud that Billy was startled into opening his eyes. She was red around the cheeks from panic. "Please help us!"

Us. A fresh line of tears flowed from his eyes, but not because of pain. He'd been involuntarily tearing up for over an hour. But these weren't burning down his cheeks because of pain. Mary was going to take care of him and he was going to die with someone who would cry for him.

How insane. A woman he'd barely spoken to was going to claim him in his last moments, then mourn him when he'd gone. He was a lucky fucking bastard.

Billy felt a warm hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes for her again, his chest tight and painful for another reason than his broken body. Mary was leaning over him and the phone was gone, her eyes glistening with tears.

"They're on the way, Billy."

There were no sweeter words on earth.

"Thank you." He could only wheeze anymore, but Mary nodded all the same. Stroking his face like he was worthy of her care, Mary's hand came back with blood smeared on the palm.

"Just stay with me."

If only it were that easy.

What he knew next was darkness. At some point he wondered if he'd died. It would make sense, finding nothing on the other side. There wasn't a host of angels to pull him into their kingdom, and there also wasn't a pit of lava with a horned dude stubbing out cigs on his skin. It was just black. Black and endless and nothing.

It was like sleeping off a bad trip. He was aware of himself, but he wasn't awake. It was a prison without bars or guards. Billy was trapped with nothing but mixed up thoughts and rambling ideas. There wasn't order, or time, it just was.

It was scary. As someone who valued his mind and his ability to control himself, Billy was fucking terrified. He had no control over anything, he couldn't think in straight lines, it was all a mess. A sticky mess.

Only once in a while would he have the push to think of something clearly. And every single time it was Mary's face. In his consciousness, she would swoop in and touch his face like she had when he'd died. She was touching his cheek and crying, calling his name and telling him to stay. He really wished he could have stayed with her. He really wished he could take back charging into the office. Okay, really, he wished he'd shot Nick Hume twice while he'd had the bastard. Now he was dead. His friends were dead. His brother was dead. His father was dead.

And it was all just black.

That's when he started to wonder about life. He'd never been a deep person, but as a dead person he figured he had the time. Billy figured he had eternity. So he thought about his life and wondered if it had all been worth it.

His brother had been killed because of revenge. And Joey had killed the Hume kid because Billy had told him to. It all boiled down to his mistakes, didn't it? It hurt him, realizing that. During it all, he'd pretended to blame Nick Hume for Joey's death, but deep down he'd really hated himself. Maybe that's why he'd charged into the old asylum. He'd been testing himself, and now he knew what it felt like to lose.

"BILLY!"

She was there in a flash of light and a scream like fire. He hurt and he burned. Billy knew agony again and it consumed him like a wave.

"Breathe ya goddamn bastard." Pete's voice was as welcoming as a two-by-four to the face, but Billy was flooded with relief. Pete's voice meant one thing.

He was back.

"Hold his head and make sure he fuckin' stays alive." Pete was hissing angrily in the blinding light and Billy wanted to say something back. Something along the lines of "fuck you". Yet a piercing pain in his side ripped a scream from his throat instead.

Then it was black again. And an angel's voice was singing to him. Singing to him in the dark.

When he woke up, for a moment he wondered if he had dreamt it all. That would be nice, huh? Waking up to find Joey snoring on the couch beside him, Bodie passed out in the chair across the room. That would be the best gift. But even before he'd opened his eyes, Billy knew he'd see nothing of the sort.

The television was on, quietly. A local news channel. A woman's voice was droning on from a distance and the lights danced across his eyelids, alerting him to the lively picture. It took him a few tries to open his eyes. First, it was just too damn bright. The TV made his eyes roll back in his skull, hiding in the comfort of shadow. But a few blinks softened the glow of the screen and eventually he could focus on his surroundings.

Well shit, he wasn't on the couch at all.

His bedroom television was the one making muffled sounds, an anchorwoman speaking gravely to her audience. Whatever she was saying, he didn't care. In fact, unless she had a glass of water, she was dead to him. Because, goddamn, he was thirsty.

"Hello?" It felt stupid to call out into his own apartment, but he felt like his body weighed a million pounds, something he wasn't going to attempt to lift anytime soon. As soon as he spoke, there was a groan of the sofa and quick footsteps.

Mary appeared like he remembered her, blonde hair and pristine skin, practically floating into his room. She was wearing an old t-shirt and boxer shorts, her hair messy. Had she been asleep in his living room?

"You're awake." She stated the obvious with a beaming smile on her face and Billy awkwardly swallowed. His memory was terribly jumbled and he felt so helpless it was embarrassing. But his embarrassment vanished when Mary's eyes filled with tears. "Thank god." Billy flinched as the shining tears slipping down one of her cheeks.

"I figure I should be thankin' you. Not god." He murmured, giving himself a once over for the first time. His body was covered with a white sheet, but there was very little on him besides that. He could feel the cool material on his chest and his arms, down his legs.

"Oh, don't count god out." Mary replied, moving to stand at his side. He looked up at her and felt like touching her face, cradling that dainty jaw in one of his hands. She looked pretty perfect to him in that moment, flushed from emotion and groggy from sleep. Billy just looked at her and she let him. For a long while.

Eventually his thirst sent a reminder to his brain, making his throat hurt in response. He swallowed and winced, raising a hand to his neck.

His right hand was wrapped heavily in bandage, only three of his fingers sticking out from the dressing. For a second he just stared at the disfigured part of him and wondered what had become of his two missing fingers. Down that same arm was another cluster of bandage, encasing the elbow until it was immobile. Lifting the limb didn't seem to hurt, but he felt the pang of residual pain, like it was in a far off place that was steadily approaching.

"Should I even ask what happened?" Mary's question brought him back to reality like a tape snapping back to play. Lowering his hand, Billy thought about the shootout at the office, thought about the rage he'd felt after seeing his best friend cut down in a single shot. All of his friends, dead. He'd tripped over Jaime on his way out, limping his way to the back where Bodie had left his car. Baggy had been outside, a couple stories below on the ground. He'd seen Dog and Spink on the way in, and he could only imagine what kind of state Hume had left Heco in.

"They're all fuckin' dead." He muttered aloud, staring at the television screen with flat eyes. What was he doing alive? That wasn't how it was supposed to end, was it? It should have ended with him dying on that chapel pew.

"That's what your friend said." Mary replied, her body sinking beside him on the bed. She was barely sitting on the edge of the mattress, but her presence brought him out of his eerie replay of the previous night and he turned his head around to face her. So kind, so understanding. Her face was devoid of any judgment or fear. To her, he was just a neighbor who had needed help.

"I'd be dead too if it weren't for you, Mary." She flushed a deep shade of scarlet and shrugged, her mouth opening as if she planned on saying something to the contrary. But nothing left her lips and eventually she just laughed softly and closed her mouth.

"Why did you call me, Billy?" He watched her look away before she asked him that question. A question he spent a minute reflecting on before he finally answered.

"You're the only good person I know."

Her smile was shy and a few more tears ran silently down her cheeks. And for a minute, he wondered if she would stay, or if she was going to leave now that he was awake. Eventually she nodded and her face lifted in a fuller, happier smile.

"Well…do you need anything?" Mary wiped a few tears away, then stood. With a deep breath and a moment of silence, she looked like nothing terrible had happened. Like it was a simple world and she was asking him a simple question.

"I'd die for some water."