"She\\\'s cried herself into oblivion,\\\' Matt thought, peering down at the woman splayed across his chest. Even in sleep she held a firm grip on his arms. For about the tenth time that morning just who this tortured beauty was, and just why he felt he couldn\'t let her go. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw her pelt through his room. He had climbed out of bed to see her throw open the doors that led to the balcony. Something, something mixed with fear had gripped him when she threw on leg over the railing.

Wrapping his arms around her possessively, he glanced at the two men whispering gravely across the room. Jim was in deep conversation with a man he had introduced as the Doctor when he hurried in some time ago. The middle aged man had expresse dno surprise whne he saw the state the woman was in. He\'d walked over and tried to examine her while she sobbed uncontrollably. Concluding that she was in no immediate danger, he\'s stood, and walked over to consult Jim. The burly man stood in fornt of the very balcony his friend had tried to jump over.

From what Matthew could hear of the conversation as bits and pieces floated back to him, the Doctor figured the woman needed to be checked into a hospital. Jim had asserted that she didn\'t, that he\'d taken care of her before and he could do it again.

As he watched the men speak, Matt heard lyrics forming in his mind.

\'There they stood before the clear glass,

a life hanging in their hands

They\'re both fighting for a dear lass

who\'s fighting for her soul\'

The music stopped abrubtly as the woman shifted, rubbing her face against his chest. Matt\'s breath caught. As she settled again, he chided himself. \'It won\'t do, boy. It won\'t do.\'

The men seemed to have come to an agreement, though reluctantly, it seemed.

The Doctor sighed heavily and ran his hand through his rust coloured hair. \'You\'re getting old, Will\' he told himself. \'Much more of this, and you\'ll be flaking at the edges.\'

He turned his attention to Tori, who slept quite peacefully on a strange man\'s chest. Funny, He hadn\'t even bothered to ask the man\'s name. He had assumed correctly he\'d caught her before she jumped, but had made no effort towards him otherwise. \'Even your bedside manner is slipping.\' He dragged a hand over his face, considering ways to correct this problem.

Seeing no sensible alternative, he walked over to the young man, not even bothering to atempt a smile. "Ah, Doctor Ranford." he said, motioning to himself. The young man looked up at him, his chin resting on the top of Tori\'s head. Ranford found it odd, the way the man was almost wrapped around her. One arm wound around her shoulders, the other around her waist. His legs mocked hers in the way they folded, acting as a barrier between her and the world. \'He doesn\'t even know her,\' he thought.

"M\'name\'s Mattew," the young man said softly. He could tell he was trying not to wake her. "And her\'s?" he asked.

"Tori," Ranford replied. He at least had a right to know.

He watched a grin spread across his face, the lamplight from outside partially illuminating his face. He shakes his head disbelievingly. "Figures."

Bear still stood at the glass doors. He watched the doctor ask the renter to move Tori to the bed. He watched him closely, eyes narrowed. Fro mthe moment he met him early the day before he had liked him. He had no reason to. He was a scruffy Irish punk rocker who was making a racket outside his pub. Who starts playing music at 8 a.m. on a Monday? Eh?

He watched him, Braen he said his name was, place her gently on the bed. His head told him it wasn\'t necessary, she wouldn\'t feel anything even if he\'d body slammed her into it. His heart understood the care. He\'d always loved featherbeds. Ranford leaned over her, pulling something from his bag. He looked at Braen again. He couldn\'t shake the feeling that after tonight, Dr. Will Ranford wouldn\'t be paying much visits to the Sticky Fingers\' one patient.

Something cold was being wiped across her face, causing the various cuts and brises to sting uncomfortably. A bit of her sense was coming back. The thoght bumbled into her mind that it was the doctor, tending to her. Mind still groggy, she tried to turn her head away. No dice.

Slowly the feeling was coming back to her. She was laying on a bed, one of Bear\'s beds. She smiled in her head. She was sunk deep into it. She waved hand at the cloth. She heard voices around her. Then, a small prick on her upper arm. A sedative, she knew it. She sighed. He had done it the last time. It was to be expected.....