The impish grin had him closing his eyes and shaking his head. With all that has happened, is this part real? He rolled over and faced Leslie's grin.

"I have to ask . . . and I know how it might sound, but—"

"Good communication is necessary for a good relationship, Kilroy."

"Yeah, I know. You're right."

"So, ask."

"Is this- is what we have right now true feelings, or are you- is it because of Kilroy, and not me?"

"My God! What an ego." She propped herself up on one elbow and poked him.

"Ouch."

"What makes you think I could love someone like Brian Hayes?"

"Huh?" Oh my God, I was right. She's just a groupie.

"I'll give you huh, you moron. Kilroy is Brian Hayes, and Brian Hayes is Kilroy, and I could never love one without the other." She jabbed him again and flopped back down on her pillow.

"Oh . . ."

The afternoon passed with restrained conversation and several attempts by Brian to elicit a more favourable attitude. Gradually the frost melted and she conceded to his persistence.

"You know, you were pretty tough on an injured man."

"Where do you keep the butter?" She was rummaging through his refrigerator.

"Cupboard on the left. I was saying—"

"Yeah, yeah. Injured man, I heard." She got out some bread and began spreading butter.

He sat on a chair and stared at her. "Was our earlier intimacy a disappointment? I recall the word love bandied about." He suddenly sat straighter when she turned, pointing the butter knife at him.

"Brian, for someone who punctuates his speech with quotes and lines from songs, you really lack an ability to connect with real emotions."

"Excuse me?"

"No. I won't. I had never felt hope outside that Precinct prison until I met you. I learned from finding you that life need not be given up to the whims of others. Yes, it most likely was infatuation at first, but what did I know?"

"Les—"

"The longer you were there and I was with you, I figured it out." She set the knife down and went to him, settling on his lap.

"Take my hand

take my whole life, too

for I can't help

falling in love with you. . ."

He swallowed and read his own feelings in her eyes. "Thank yuh, thank yuh verra much."
The light smack was delivered with a smile and a kiss. 

Rather than rehash what had happened, they moved on to the topic of Veronica's news, with the comfort of having closed a door.

"The painting. Yeah. I saw it alright, right after I woke up. Then I took a swig of water, and I found out from Cassidy that it was a drug. Things I saw or thought I saw were induced. Somehow, I managed to get away. Maybe I just had a stronger constitution and overrode the drug effects."

"But why is the painting so important?"

"The fact that it was there. How? If Dabny was a criminal sentenced to the 20 Days of Freedom, how did he get that painting? And why?"

"She said Reagan told her he had a wagon with his things."

"Okay, but why a painting? How would that help him survive?"

"Well, he seems to have done, with or without it."

"But what about this deal she said he made?"

"Guess we'll have to ask him."

"Oh, no. That could get Veronica in trouble. We'll just have to bide our time." He grinned slyly.

"The waiting is the hardest part
every day you see one more card
you take it on faith, you take it to the heart
the waiting is the hardest part"

"Is that another Kilroy-ism?"

"Courtesy of Tom Petty." He dodged another poke, still in fun.

******

Cassidy stood inside the doorway of the Inquisitor's cell, arms folded, and a look of repulsion. Inquisitor was ranting on about the unconscionable treatment he was receiving.

"That's ripe, coming from you." He spat. "But have heart, your treatment is about to improve. Repairs to the courtroom are about complete, and we will be proceeding straight to trial."

"You don't have the authority to hold trials!" Inquisitor stamped a foot in rage.

"Oh, this is going to be a memorable event. You and your so-called Circle are going to experience justice –justice from your peers."

Inquisitor scoffed. "Peers? I think not."

"Better think again." He turned and left, slamming and locking the door, smiling at the diatribe and fist pounding.

Cassidy was met at the top of the stairs by one of the rebels assisting in the repairs.

"Simon Charles was brought up and is waiting inside."

"Thanks. Place looks good. Fast work."

"We can't do it fast enough to see this trial."

He grinned, and patted the man's back. Across the room, seated hunched and looking truly pitiful, Simon Charles glanced up as Cassidy approached.

"Mr. Charles. As defence for the Circle's trial, you will be afforded the necessary respect regarding the proceedings. We want this to be an example of justice according to the real law, not the Circle's. And while you may be acting on that behalf, you are also a defendant. Whatever is decided, you are included. Are we clear?"

The look from Simon almost reached Cassidy's heart. It was a dictionary description of devastation.

"I understand . . . I tried—"

"Save it for your defence, sir. You will be given a table and writing material to prepare. You will also have a warder to assure compliance." Cassidy was about to leave, and stopped. "You have two days before trial." He nodded to the warder. "Take him back." Then he abruptly left the building.

Helen Browne stood immediately and came around her desk as he entered the office. "Reagan, just the man. Jason has been asking for you. He's threatening to free all the patients and savage all the nurses if he isn't allowed to leave."

"Sounds like he's ready. Actually I came to visit, so what's the prognosis?"

"Rest, and plenty of it. We had to leave the bullet in. The cavitation from the bullet was extensive, and there were some secondary missiles from bone. He'll be fine but it will take a while – and some good sense."

"Not ravaging nurses, you mean."

She laughed and led him to the ward where Jason was stewing.

"Reagan! Thank God. Get me out of here will you."

"'Fraid not, Jason. Doc tells me you only have a few weeks. You need to be here, supervised, so it isn't shorter."

Helen turned away, shoulders shaking as she tried desperately to hide her laugh. Jason's face had gone completely blank, then he saw Cassidy's smirk.

"You dirty- that was so . . . I probably will drop dead after a trick like that."

"Well, you recovered pretty quick from that, so the rest should be easy – emphasis on rest, pal."

"You too?" He grumped.

"In two days we're holding the trial. I came to tell you that we'll make arrangements to get you there, so you can observe. But only if you behave. I'm serious, Jase, too many have already paid for this business."

"Got it. Sorry, Helen."

She touched his hand. "Just get better."

She walked Cassidy to the exit, assuring him his friend would recover.

"How is Brian, I haven't seen him since the- the day?"

"Brian, it seems, has become the pet project of young Leslie. She's the woman—"

"I know Leslie. He could do a lot worse. She's a bright young woman."

"Did I detect something there?"

The slap on the back shooed him out the door, and he grinned at her scowl.

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