"Ten and thirteen." the harried mother called back, then turned and demanded that her kids stop running around the store, causing a nuisance. Mike nodded thoughtfully, reaching for a completely different series of books. She smiled, pulling down the Little Women series, then proceeded to carry all of the books to the front counter, resting each of them beside the cash register.

"All those books?" the mother asked in astonished dismay.

"Since the Narnia chronicles are so short, you'll probably want to get two series for your son. However, the Little Women series are thick books. They should keep your kids busy for not only a few hours, but, hopefully a couple of weeks." Mike reassured with a smile and a nod.

"All right. You work here, so I'll trust your judgment." the mother nodded with a soft sigh. Mike rang in the three series, giving the woman a discount because she was buying full series of each.

"Thirty dollars even." Mike smiled at the mother.

"Really? That's it?" the woman lifted her eyebrow.

"Yeah. We're a used book store. The books may not be brand new, but our prices are considerably lower than most." Mike shrugged, glancing up when the bell above the door jangled once again. Her heart stuttered to a stop when she saw David, looking rather wary and worse for wear, enter the shop, his eyes tired and glazed. The woman reached into her purse, pulling out her wallet.

"Do you accept checks?" she inquired hopefully.

"Yup. Just make it out to The Reading Corner." Mike nodded, watching nervously as David wandered through the shelves of books, eyes darting to her every few minutes. Minutes later, Mike had finished the business transaction between the shop and the young mother.

"Come on, kids. Time to go home!" the young woman yelled, trying to round up her children so they could depart. Mike waved to the children as they left the store, breathing a soft sigh of relief when the door closed behind them. It wasn't good for business to have a scene with David in front of customers. Gabriel, sensing the abrupt mood change of his owner, climbed to his feet to stand loyally beside her.

"David, you know you're not supposed to come within five hundred feet of me. The restraining order says so." Mike stated calmly, hoping desperately the note of fear wasn't audible to him. David just smiled with a shake of his head.

"I don't care what the restraining order says." he mumbled, raking a hand through his hair as he strolled over to the front counter.

"Leave, David, and I won't call the cops." Mike tried to keep her voice firm, shoving her trembling hands into the pockets of her jeans.

"I don't think so, Michaela." David shook his head, giving her a saccharine sweet smile. "You see, I've come to a conclusion."

"And what kind of conclusion would that be?" she inquired, taking a step back from the counter that separated the two of them.

"I don't like a lot of things you've been doing. Especially you replacing me so easily in your life." his eyes glittered in the fluorescent lighting as he rested his arms on the counter. "So, the motto in this situation and many others like it is, if I can't have you, no one can. Does that sound about right to you, Michaela?"

"Don't be absurd, David. And don't threaten me anymore. You don't scare me like you used to." she shook her head, reaching under the counter for the small security alarm button, quickly pressing it before folding her arms across her chest.

"You should be scared." he promised her with a smile.

"Give me one good reason." she leveled him with an icy gaze.

"I'll give you two. I'm a crazy man, there's one. And I have a gun. There's two. And the bonus answer, I'm going to kill you." he murmured the words so softly she barely heard them. Michaela's heart froze inside her chest, though she tried to control the emotion from invading her expressive face, trying to keep her cool mask of indifference.

"You want to kill me?" she inquired deceptively soft, lifting an eyebrow. David nodded, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, gleaming black gun.

"Tell me, how are you going to have me when I'm dead?" she demanded, irritation beginning to rear it's ugly head.

"Oh, I'll be following you. Murder, suicide. Perfect in every way." he smirked, stroking the metal of the gun in his hand.

"Get out, David. You're not impressing me." Michaela shook her head, turning her back to him. She closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath, praying the police would show up soon.

"I didn't come here to impress you!" David shouted suddenly. It was all she could do to keep from jumping at the anger in his voice.

"Then what the hell do you want?" she forced the nerve to shout back, whirling around to face him.

"You left me. Damn it. No one leaves me!" he raked a hand through his disheveled hair, glaring daggers at her.

"I left you because of the constant abuse." she returned hotly, shaking her head. She eyes snapped to the door when the bell jingled gaily. A customer.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Avery. We're closed." Michaela called out immediately to the regular Sunday afternoon customer.

"What's that dear? I had my hearing aid turned down?" Mr. Avery, who was a hundred if he was a day, called out, shuffling further into the store. David tensed, turning his eyes to the new comer.

"David, he's just an old man. Let me tell him the store's closed." she pleaded under her breath so only he could hear. David turned an icy gaze to her, motioning for her to get rid of him with the gun. She skirted the counter and met up with the old man with a forced cheerful smile.

"Mr. Avery, we've closed early today. A friend of mine is in the hospital." Mike took the elder man's hand, talking directly into his ear so he could hear her.

"Dear girl, I hope your friend is all right." Mr. Avery consoled, patting her hand gently.

"I hope so, too, Mr. Avery." she nodded, escorting him to the front door. She hated lying to the old man, but she also didn't want him to be in the shop when and if David lost control and started shooting. You're just choosing the lesser of the two evils. He'll understand when this is all over.

"Will the shop be open tomorrow, dear?" Mr. Avery turned hopeful eyes to her. He lived for coming into the shop to talk books with the few workers, and often helped when determining prices on some of the older books.

"We'll be open at the normal time." Mike nodded with a smile, opening the front door. She turned, giving the old man a hug.

"Mr. Avery, call the police. That man is threatening to kill me." she murmured into his ear before she pulled away.

"What's that dear? My damn hearing aid, says it'll let me hear everything. More trouble than it's worth if you ask me." Mr. Avery grimaced.

"Nothing, Mr. Avery. I'll see you tomorrow." she forced a laugh, ushering him out the door. She waved to him as she slipped the key into the lock, locking the front door so no one else could come in and enter the situation happening in the shop. She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window, taking a deep breath to steady her trembling. Tears burned her closed eyelids, her mind whirling on any idea on how to get out of the store without getting murdered in the process.

"Michaela!" David shouted, causing her to jump despite her resolve not to let him gain the upper hand with fear. She turned from the door and walked back over to her previous spot behind the counter. She turned an unwavering gaze to him, waiting for what would happen next. He spun around when a knock sounded on the front door.

"What's this? You tell that old man to call the police?" David demanded, fear finally entering his own voice when he saw the uniformed officer standing at the door, waiting to be let in. Mike stiffen, biting back a yelp of fear when David grabbed her, forcing her in front of him, an arm wrapped around her shoulders from behind. She winced, the gun pressing harshly into her spine. She turned fearful eyes to the police officer, mouthing the word 'gun'. The cop disappeared instantly. Mike sighed, closing her eyes.

"Did you tell that old man to call the cops?" David demanded again, his grip around her tightening painfully.

"What if I did?" she demanded on impulse. What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why are you spurning him on?

"Damn it, Michaela." David growled, giving her a hard shove. Her hip glanced against the counter and she lost balance, quickly falling to the floor. She winced, a slow throb forming where her hip had been hit. She gazed up at him expectantly as he paced the small book shop, mumbling nervously to himself.

Chris grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck as his muscles screamed in agony. They were working with a choreographer for the new dance steps for the upcoming songs the new album would have. I'm getting too old for this crap. He shook his head, grabbing a towel to wipe his face with while the others crowded around the refreshment table for the well coveted bottles of ice cold water.

"Kirkpatrick, you have a phone call!" someone yelled from across the room. Chris groaned, closing his eyes. Everyone's phones had been ringing off the hook with inquiries on the new album and magazines that wanted exclusive interviews. Chris draped the towel around his shoulders, strolling over to the phone. He picked it up with a sigh.

"This is Chris."

"Hey, man. The cops are looking to talk to you."

"Andy? What for?"

"Yeah, it's me. They won't say. They were just here looking for a way to contact you. You might want to give them a call."

"The Orlando Police Department wants to talk to me?"

"Yeah, man. Ask for Detective Romero."

"All right. Thanks, man." Chris mumbled and hung up the phone. He glanced over his shoulder to where his friends were laughing and making fun of one another, just generally having a good time. He shook his head, hoping it wasn't anything serious. Maybe I forgot to turn off the gas and my apartment exploded. Then his heart sank as he reached for the phone once again. What if it's Chichi? He pushed the question from his mind, calling information to ask for the number to the Orlando Police Department. Once he had the number, he spent ten minutes being transferred from one person to the next until he finally had Detective Romero on the phone.

"Yeah, hi. This is Chris Kirkpatrick. I was told you needed to speak with me."

"Mr. Kirkpatrick, thank you for calling. A situation has developed here in Orlando and you might be able to help us out."

"Sure, if I can."

"Do you know Michaela Costeo?"

"Yeah. She's a good friend and my roommate."

"Do you know of anyone who is a threat to her? Any enemies?"

"Um, David Jacobs. He's her ex-boyfriend. She left him because of abuse."

"Is there anyone else?"

"No. What's going on? What happened?"

"I can't really get into it at the moment, but I thank you for your help. Is there a number where I can reach you?"

Chris gave the detective the information he had inquired then hung up, a perplexed frown marring his face. He folded his arms across his chest, resting back against the wall, his train of thought lingering on everything that could possibly be wrong and why the police wanted information on Michaela. He shook his head slowly, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

"You all right, gramps?" Justin called over to him with a grin. Chris glanced up, startled.

"Yeah. Fine." Chris mumbled distractedly, nodding as he wandered over to his duffel bag. After a moment of rummaging through the contents, he pulled out his cellular phone and flipped it open. He dialed the number to Mike's cellular phone, waiting with growing dread as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. He sighed heavily, tossing the phone back into his duffel bag, his mind automatically resting on the worst possible things, imagination or not.

"Chris, what's wrong?" Lance inquired suddenly from beside him.

"Not sure." Chris answered truthfully with a shrug. "The cops just called, asking me questions, that's all."

"Questions about what?" Lance inquired, making a face of confusion.

"Chichi. They wanted to know if she had any enemies, that sort of thing." Chris mumbled, shaking his head.

"And they wouldn't tell you why?" Lance lifted an eyebrow. Chris shook his head silently, rolling his eyes. This was the last thing in the world he needed, especially when he needed to devote his full concentration to the task at hand, which should have been choreography and the new songs. Chris raked a hand through his hair as he stumbled to his feet.

"That's strange." Lance mumbled.

"What's goin' on, guys?" JC inquired, wandering over to the pair, holding a bottle of water and a towel.

"Chris just got a phone call from the police." Lance answered, folding his arms across his chest.

"Really. What for?" JC lifted an eyebrow, taking a sip from his bottled water.

"That's the point. He doesn't know." Lance shrugged, smiling a thanks at Justin when then younger man handed him his own bottle of water. Chris rolled his eyes, not really wanting to repeat all the answers to the questions that had already been asked. He wandered away from the small group, leaving Lance to do it for him.

Michaela rubbed a hand over her face, trying to keep herself alert and ready for anything. She and David had been holed up in the store for more than three hours with the police calling the shop every five minutes, trying to get David on the phone to find out what he wanted from the rest of the world to defuse the situation. David had flat out denied, had done everything except pull the phone cord from the jack. She rested her head back against the wall, Gabriel resting on the floor beside her, head in her lap. She absentmindedly stroked his fur.

"You're not going to get away with this." Michaela mumbled tiredly, raking a hand through her hair.

"Like I told you before, I will get away with this. It's only a matter of time." David murmured, caressing her cheek gently with his fingertips. She closed her eyes, jaw clenched as she fought a wave of nausea.

"Don't touch me." she bit off each word.

"What's the matter, baby? You used to like it when I touched you." David ran his fingers down her neck to lightly trace her collarbones.

"I said don't touch me." Michaela exclaimed, slapping his hand away from her.

"Have you forgotten who is in control here?" he lifted an eyebrow, voice deceptively soft.

"Only because you have a gun." she spat out, folding her arms across her chest.

"I would even without it." he pointed out, climbing to his feet. He began pacing the small shop once again, expending his nervous energy. They both glanced up when the phone rang. Without thinking, she reached for the phone.

"Reading Corner."

"Michaela?"

"Yeah."

"This is Detective Romero. Are you all right?"

"Not really."

"Will David talk to me?"

"No. He doesn't want to talk to any cops."

"Why not?"

"How should I know?"

"Tell us what we can do, Michaela?"

"Get me out of here."

"We're doing our best to do that. It's just harder to do so when he refuses to talk to us. We don't know his demands, so we can't give him anything to help ease him."

"He doesn't have any demands." Mike glanced over at David, who stood a few feet away, listening to the conversation intently.

"Why not?"

"Because he was an abusive boyfriend who figures if he can't have me, no one can. He's going to kill me."

Michaela sighed, head hanging slightly upon hearing the phone crackle, then go dead. She glanced up at David. He dropped the broken phone cord, eyes firing slightly with anger.

"Were they asking about demands again?" he inquired.

"What do you think?" she rolled her eyes, dropping the phone to the floor before hugging herself protectively.

"Kirkpatrick, phone!" an assistant yelled, interrupting their dance rehearsal. Chris sighed, reaching for another towel as he wandered over to the phone again.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Kirkpatrick, this is Detective Romero again. I think it would be a wise idea for you to return to Orlando."

"Why? What's going on?"

"David Jacobs has taken Michaela hostage at her work place. He has a gun, and things aren't looking good. Maybe you can help."

"What?"

"Mr. Kirkpatrick, just get here as soon as you can, all right?"

"Yeah. I'll be on the next flight." Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He hung up the phone, turning to the rest of the group with a worried frown.

"What's going on, Chris?" JC inquired, instantly knowing something was seriously wrong.

"I finally found out why the police called me." Chris mumbled, as he picked up the phone once again to call the airport.

"Okay, why?" JC prompted, lifting an eyebrow.

"David. He's taken Chichi hostage." Chris answered distractedly, then turned his attention back to the phone, listening carefully as a phone menu was practically yelled into his eardrum by an automatic voice. He pressed the needed button to talk to a ticket agent and waited impatiently for the elevator music to end and a conversation to begin.

"You're getting two tickets, right?" JC inquired, closing down the laptop computer he had bought months earlier and shoved it into his duffel bag.

"Jace, stay here. Everyone stay here. I'll take care of this myself." Chris shook his head.

"No way." JC shook his head, the rebuttal firm and unwavering.

"No kidding. We wouldn't want you to lose your head. We all know what you're like when you lose your temper." Justin glanced over at his friend.

"Five tickets." Joe nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Two." Chris sighed, relenting slightly.

"What? You and JC? The two people who care the most about her? One other person should go with you. Someone who can remind you to stay calm." Lance shook his head.

"Fine. Three. But someone has to stay here and do the whole TRL thing, not to mention some of the other interviews." Chris pointed out reasonably, using logic to fight his case.

"Lance should go. He's the most level headed in a crisis." Justin shrugged a shoulder.

"You sure you can handle Carson on your own?" Lance grinned at Justin and Joe, who only shrugged with a laugh. Chris wheedled with the ticket agent for nearly twenty minutes before he was able to reserve three tickets with his credit card number. While Chris was on the phone, Lance informed everyone what was going on, telling them they would return as soon as they could; and JC made sure one of the security guards could drive them to the airport. Once the tickets were reserved, the three heading for Orlando climbed into an unmarked van and drive to the airport.

"Do you think she's all right?" JC inquired as they made themselves comfortable in their airline seats, shifting and stretching until they could fold themselves into the cramped space.

"She better be, or I won't be held responsible for what happens." Chris muttered savagely, tapping his fingers impatiently on his thigh. He promised Michaela he would protect her no matter what, especially since her brother had died. He hadn't been able to keep that promise. Chris sighed softly, closing his eyes. I should have brought her with me. Should have made sure someone was always with her so this never would have happened. I should have demanded she go with me on this trip. His mind berated him, his heart slowly sinking inside his chest, giving him no respite from his mind's severe words. Lance rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, silently reassuring him when words couldn't touch his pain and frustration. Chris forced a smile, then turned his gaze to the window beside him, watching the landscape pass by quickly, the vertigo of the plane taking off causing his stomach to churn madly. He closed his eyes tightly, clamping down firmly on his stomach and it's roiling indecision on whether or not it wanted to relieve itself from it's contents. The flight wouldn't arrive and land in Orlando soon enough for his liking.

"What did the police tell you the last time they called?" Lance inquired, hoping to draw out his two brooding friends from their silences.

"Nothing, really. Just told me I should probably be there. Gave me no other reason." Chris mumbled, shaking his head. Lance lifted his eyebrows in surprise, falling silent like the others.

David paced back and forth throughout the small book shop, raking a hand through his hair. Nervousness was beginning to get the better of him, causing him to doubt his ability to carry through with the task before him. He didn't want to kill her, but he also didn't want to let her go so she could love another person. Anger surged through him when he remembered the familiarity she had with this JC person. He glanced over his shoulder, glowering at her as she gazed down at her dog, petting his fur soothingly. She would pay for making him hurt this much. She would pay for everything she did to him, including leaving him. She never would have left him if it hadn't been for her meddling friends. He glanced up when a loud knock sounded at the front door of the shop. Detective Romero stood gazing at him, asking him to open the door so they could talk. He shook his head, turning his back on the officer. The sun had gone down almost an hour earlier, and the air in the shop had gotten cooler. He raked a hand through his hair, turning to Mike with a sigh.

"Why did you leave me, Michaela? I loved you." he inquired, falling to his knees in front of her.

"You didn't love me, David. Love doesn't come in a fist." she shook her head, voice filled with fatigue.

"I gave you everything you could ever ask for." he continued, resting the gun on his thigh. "I gave you a place to live; food to eat; wonderful, beautiful sex. And this is how you repay me? Why do you force me to do these things? Why, Michaela?"

"I don't force you to do anything, David. It's all you. Somehow I always made you feel inadequate, so you took it upon yourself to beat me so you'd feel better about yourself. So you'd feel as if you'd gotten your manhood back. It was never me. It was you. It was always you. And I did love you, David. But your love came at too high a price for me to pay off anymore." Mike sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with a hand, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

"What does this JC guy have that I don't? What do they all have that I don't?" David demanded, becoming angry with the situation all over again.

"Their love doesn't come attached to a fist." she replied simply, shrugging her shoulders, twining her fingers in Gabriel's fur.

"I haven't laid a hand on you in months." David tried, pacing the room once again.

"No one has let you get close enough to me." Mike mumbled, her hopes at surviving this whole ordeal slowly dwindling with the waning sunlight.

"I never would have hurt you." David exclaimed passionately.

"You're here to kill me! How can you expect me to believe that?" she practically shouted, eyes flashing with barely veiled anger.

"You're driving me to this! This wouldn't be happening if you had only loved me the way I love you!" he shouted, causing her to jump, fear coursing slightly through her.

"Damn it, David. Let me go." she yelped, finally having enough of everything. David shook his head, wagging a finger at her in denial. She surged to her feet, taking a step closer to him.

"Then damn you for being a coward. I'm not staying in this store any longer. Gabriel, come." Michaela stated loudly, turning to walk to the front door.

"Don't take another step, Michaela." David warned, his voice holding no room for compromise.

"The only way you'll stop me is if you kill me. So just do it." she spat out angrily, refusing to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Don't make me shoot you." he pleaded. She spun on her heel, folding her arms across her chest.

"Shoot me, damn you. Grab ahold of your balls and shoot me!" she shouted, infuriated, finally taking a stand for herself in her life.

"Shoot me!" she screamed, lunging at him. David pulled back his fist and seconds later she saw stars, but it didn't deter her from her path.

"You friggin coward! Shoot me!" she continued to berate him, wiping the back of her hand against the corner of her mouth, pulling blood away. She knocked the gun from his hand, and David, not quite knowing what to do with himself, tried to fight her off the best he could. Michaela brought the heel of her hand against his nose, causing him to cry out in outraged pain. She fumbled slightly, reaching for the gun, then stood in one fluid movement, gun in hand. Without hesitating, he aimed the gun at him.

"How do you feel now that the roles have reversed?" she demanded, backing slowly away from him toward the front door. "Not fun, is it? Constantly fearing for your life. What you're feeling right now, multiply that by a thousand and that's what I felt like the entire time I was with you."

The sound of breaking glass startled her enough to glance over her shoulder. Detective Romero stepped through the broken glass in the door, holding his hand out to her.

"Miss Costeo, walk toward me." Detective Romero coaxed, stretching his hand further into the room. She reached back, taking the detective hand in her own. Suddenly David gave an angered cry, lunging for her. Without giving herself the luxury of thinking, she pulled the trigger. David staggered back, a look of shock washing over his face as a bright red stain blossomed on the chest of his shirt. Unnerved by what she had done, the gun slipped from nerveless fingers, clattering onto the floor. Suddenly she was yanked from the book shop and thrust into paramedics hands for medical attention. Police cruisers were parked everywhere, blue and red lights flashing blindingly. News vans were also scattered among the police cruisers, the reporters all clamoring to get an interview with any of the eyewitnesses. Mike gazed around in mild dismay and total numbness, trying to process what had just happened. You shot David. He lunged at you. He was going to kill you. And you shot him. She shook her head as she was gently crowded back into the ambulance, the paramedics checking her blood pressure and various other external things to make sure she was all right.

"She's in shock." one muttered to the other.

"Mr. Kirkpatrick? I'm Detective Romero. Michaela is safe. She's been taken to the hospital for some more tests to make sure she's okay." a young man wearing a trench coat and a suit, no older than thirty, held out his hand. Chris shook the offered hand, gazing around in astonishment.

"What happened?" Chris finally had the nerve to ask.

"She killed David in self defense. She'll have to come into the station to give a statement, but no one will be pressing charges. There were witnesses who saw what happened." Detective Romero informed the other man, giving him an apologetic look as he made his way over to one of the cruisers. Chris stood back, stunned into immobile silence. Chichi shot and killed David.

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