She meant to go back to the hospital to see Gavin one more time before she headed back to Vegas, but there was this nagging, gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her it was too much of a risk. Sure, he was guarded, but that didn't help her feelings much. The hard truth was that Stella was a mark for one of the most notorious killers in the underground, and that meant that anyone she knew was in danger. In the dark of night, from her hotel room in Philly, Stella made up her mind. She left the hotel before dawn and boarded a plane back to Las Vegas with Paul and Donny. 

The girls at the DiVasio Agency were excited to see her walk through the door, but the smiles faded when they saw the somber, tortured look on her face. She told the girls that the business would need to close for a few days, and that she would be hiring a few more temporary guards. She assured them everything was fine, and cut each girl a check for what they would normally make in a week, with very strict instructions that they were not to leave without one guard per girl.  She then went upstairs to her suite.

After a long, hot bath, she began making preparations. Her first call was to PanAm, booking a flight to New York that evening. She scribbled down the flight information, then went about packing. Into a single, simple knapsack, she packed one change of clothing. Next, she slid her bedside table aside and opened the safe hidden behind it. From that, she removed three large stacks of bills, and a pair of handguns. Those went into the bag as well, then she quickly closed the safe, forgetting about the table. 

Before leaving, Stella memorized the flight information, crumpled up the slip of paper, and dropped it into the small waste basket by the writing desk. 

Downstairs, the girls were by the pool, and Donny and Paul were eating an early dinner. As quietly as possible, Stella slipped out the front door and hopped into a waiting cab.

The sun was setting as she rode silently to the airport. The next few days would settle the matter of her fathers legacy; one way or another. She felt her stomach flutter. At least, this way, no one else would get hurt. 

Gavin blinked as he walked out of the hospital, immediately looking down toward his shoes as his eyes adjusted to sunlight. He hadn't been outside for almost a month, healing up from the injuries to his ribs and back. Fortunately, he was finally back in fighting shape.

Smirking, he checked the back of his knuckles. Literal fighting shape. The guards his sister had hired had been ordered to give him an extra week's rest, even though the doctors had proclaimed him fully healed. He prove his health by putting both guards down within a couple minutes of scrapping. Whatever, Tara would pay them a bonus. 

To begin, he'd cross the street and have one drink. Then he'd find Stella. Didn't need to see Tara; she'd know the score when she saw the guards.

Gavin was back.

***

A couple hours later, Gavin stepped out of the bar and his smirk had evolved into a full grown grin. He considered hailing a cab, but the act of walking, though strange, was enjoyable to him after being stuck in a room for as long as he had. 

Over the course of the afternoon, he'd checked at every hotel downtown. He'd checked every art gallery.

He even called Tara; Stella was gone.

Strange for her not to leave a note with him.

For a moment, he thought about Durden. But she'd promised to wait until he was out before doing anything like that.

Hadn't she?

He paused. Then he hailed a cab. It was time to head to Vegas. 

It had been four days since Stella had arrived in New York City- no guards, no plan, and no Gavin. She was absolute in her conviction that she would protect her loved ones from this danger. This wasn't their fight, and Stella would not see their blood spilled for it. 

In the first two days, she had stayed in her motel room trying to formulate the most effective strategy. She considered trying to set up a meeting, formally, and appeal to any humanity that Tyler Durden had in him; but Gavin's words echoed in her memory. He just wanted blood. She then entertained the idea of infiltration, taking Durden by surprise; but she knew that wouldn't work. They probably already knew she was there, waiting for exactly the right time. 

​​​​​​Sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee under a dim lamp hanging over the ramshackle table, the only clear solution seemed to be to simply offer herself for the taking rather than make them chase her. Durden himself wasn't out there looking for her. Maybe Durden couldn't be bought off, but street guys could. 

-------

"Should we call somebody? What about the older guy, that Uncle she's always talking about?" 

Mara was pacing three or four steps back and forth in front of the reception desk. Roxanne shook her head. 

"He isn't her Uncle, he's her boss. You don't know about Joe Ligambi? He's one of those mob bosses, but big time."

Mara chewed nervously at her bottom lip. 

"I just think something has to be wrong. The girls in Philly haven't seen her or heard from her. Oh! What about that man that came to visit her? The one with the really nice eyes?" 

"You mean...shit, I forgot his name. Kevin?" 

Gavin looked out the window of the cab as it pulled up to the DiVasio Escort Agency. The Vegas sun was cooking, as usual, and the black shirt he was wearing wasn't helping. Removing his sunglasses, he made his way up the steps and knocked on the door. The place seemed to be closed, but he'd seen more than a few of the "girls" on his last trip; perhaps they'd recognize him. 

"Anybody home? Stella?"

Mara peeked out through a panel of the cut glass window when the knock came. Her eyes wished, and she hurriedly unbolted and opened the door. Looking past him briefly, her shoulders slumped slightly. 

"She's not with you...damn. This isn't good."

Mara pulled Gavin inside. All the girls were sitting in the waiting room, along with Donny, Paul, and all three of Stella's newly hired personal guards. Roxanne perked up. 

"Yeah, him. Kevin." 

Jen shook her head. 

"Gavin. Not Kevin. We're really glad you're here. Ms. Stella is gone. She left four days ago, and we haven't heard from her since. She just came back from Philly, said we had to close for a few days and that we couldn't leave without an escort. Then she just disappeared in the night - she didn't even tell us where she was going."

Mara interjected. 

​​​​​​"Her luggage is still here, and the girls in Philly haven't seen her  either. This isn't right. We were going to call you, but we didn't know how."

​​​​​

​​​​​

​​​​​​

Gavin dismissed the last statement as he prowled inside the building, locking the door behind him. The women and the bodyguards were all sitting around the waiting room like a bunch of idiots, doing nothing. Gavin crossed his arms as he listened. 

"Four days, back from Philly, worried about you. Got it."

He stalked past them, heading for Stella's bedroom. When he got there, he closed the door. Wasn't interested in the women at the moment, and although one of the bodyguards looked like he was going to to protest, another one kept him silent. Alone in the room, Gavin went over and sat on the bed. 

You can't read carpet, tile, or a wooden floor the same way you'd follow an animal's trail in the woods... but it was a similar mindset. Stella had either left or been grabbed. 

He looked around for signs of struggle, but failed to see anything out of place. He doubted even professionals would have been able to reassemble Stella's room as perfectly. So unless she'd randomly gone for a stroll and got nabbed there... unlikely... then she left on her own. 

Standing, Gavin walked around the room, checking the desk and the nightstand. When he checked the trash bin, he unfolded the piece of paper at the bottom.

Well, shit.

Gavin walked quickly, not stopping as he walked through the waiting room and spoke loudly.

"I'll find her. Sit tight and be ready to fly if I need you."

Exiting and hailing a cab immediately, he headed for the airport. Originally, he was hoping Stella would have gone to ground with her "Uncle". 

But if she was going to New York, there was only one person she'd be trying to see.

In the late morning of day five, Stella took a seat at an outdoor Cafe with a newspaper. She ordered a coffee and nothing else. From behind the paper, she began to observe everyone around, taking note of who came in, who stayed, who left, and who lingered. Patrons came and went. About an hour later, she ordered some scrambled eggs and bacon. She ate slowly, still watching. Two men caught her attention. One came in shortly after Stella and sat alone. The other sat at a nearby bus stop, reading a paper. He been there since she sat down, maybe before. 

After another half hour, neither had moved. Stella took a scrap of paper from her bag and wrote something on it. She handed it to the waitress and asked that it be delivered to the man a few tables over. Finishing her coffee and leaving cash on the table, Stella stood and headed for the alley beside the Cafe. 

------

"I know you're here for me. Meet me in the alley, don't shoot me, and I'll give you $20k to split with your buddy over there."

-----

"Well, looks like the little lady has gotten wise since last we met." 

Stella took a deep breath as the two men approached her, halfway down the alley. Both had hands in their coats, likely on their weapons. Stella pulled a thick envelope from her bag, holding it up with both hands so they could see it clearly.

"Here's the money. I just want to talk to your boss."

The other man snorted. 

"That ain't our orders, sugar tits."

"Wait, Jimmy, I got an idea. It's the boss' birthday, ain't it?" 

His partner looked at him, confused, then seemed to get the idea. He smiled the ugliest smile Stella had ever seen. 

"Hand over the cash, and I won't shoot you. We'll take you to Tyler. You can wish him a happy birthday yourself." 

Cautiously, Stella stepped closer, holding the envelope out. The first man reached out and took the envelope, and the second whipped around behind her and grabbed her arms, wrenching them behind her back. The first guy took out his gun. Stella went pale. 

​​​​"You said you wouldn't shoot me..."  she stammered. 

The gunman gave her a cocky grin. 

"I ain't gonna shoot you." 

The butt of his pistol connected hard with the back of Stella's head. When she went limp, the second man pulled her bag and coat off her, tossing them beside a nearby dumpster. 

​​​

​​​​​​

​​​​​

Gavin usually didn't have trouble following asleep, especially on a plane or in a car. This time, however, he'd crossed the Mississippi before he had drifted off to oblivion. It was hard not to think about Stella.

His hope was that Stella was holed up in a hotel somewhere, plotting ways to take down Durden. In that case, he could hopefully grab her and get her out of the city, talk her out of it. Worst case, he'd try to help her. 

He was worried, though, that she'd try something on her own.

Trying to find someone in New York, though, wasn't exactly easy. There was an information broker he'd done business with in the past, but he was expensive as shit and may not even being willing to talk. Before that, he had one thing to try. When he'd met Stella in New York previously, he'd been back to her hotel room to help her pack after their earlier misadventure. 

Gavin could only hope that Stella, like many in their business who traveled often, was a creature of habit. If she was staying at the same hotel, he could hopefully get to her before she got into any trouble.

Stepping out of the cab, Gavin strode into the hotel. A young man came to take his luggage, but Gavin didn't have anything except his clothes, his gun, his knife, and his wallet. Moving past the bellhop, he moved to the front desk.

"Hi, I'm looking for a friend staying here. Might be under Stella. Might be under Sofia."

The man at the front desk smiled at Gavin.

"Could you describe your friend, sir?"

"Italian woman. Young. Very pretty- you'd have noticed her."

"Ah... yes. I do know who you're referring to."

"I need to get into her room."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's our policy not to let other-"

"It's an emergency."

"Well, sir, if it's an emergency and you get the police to ask me, I'd be happy to do so."

Gavin fumed as he glanced around the lobby. No cops- and too many witnesses here. He'd come back later. As he wordlessly turned to go, the bellhop spoke apologetically.

"I can't give you access to the room, but I did see her today..."

"Well?"

"Across the street, the cafe. I saw her on my way in."

Gavin was swiftly walking and weaving in between cars before he was finished. The cafe wasn't particularly busy, and he started questioning waitresses when he saw them available. Finally, he found the right one, who mentioned delivering a note to a man at another table as the woman walked away. 

"Which direction?" 

He followed the sidewalk where she was pointing and halted at the opening of the alley. As he walked inside, he looked down in the pile of trash to find a new coat and a purse. A cursory examination revealed them to be Stella's.

At this point, it seemed like Durden had her. He wanted to curse, but there was no point in it. Instead, he followed the alley in the other direction, figuring the guy she'd been meeting would want to avoid being seen again by the same waitress. Perhaps on the other end of the alley he could pick up the trail. 

If not, it didn't matter. If Durden had Stella, Gavin didn't need to track down Stella anymore. Durden might be the easier target to find.

Before she could manage to get her eyes to open, Stella could feel a cold floor beneath her. In fact, the air was chilly and dry. Her head was pounding, the pain radiating from the back of her head. Moaning softly, she forced her eyes open and waited for the blurriness to pass. There was only a very dim light shining down from high above her, and it flickered and buzzed intermittently. Only for a moment did she struggle to recall what happened to her. The scene in the alley came quickly to her mind. That was when she realized that her arms were tied tightly behind her back. A gag was tied around her head, in her mouth. Craning her neck downward, she saw that she had nothing but her underwear, bra, and camisole on. Anger began boiling inside her like she'd never felt before. Anger for being too stupid to know that those goons wouldn't do things her way. Anger for just being stupid in general. What the hell would she do now? For that matter, where the hell was she now? 

Staying very still, she listened. In the distance, she could just faintly hear voices. There were many voices, talking and laughing, along with the sound of clinking glasses and scuffing chairs on a wooden floor. She could smell cigar smoke. 

"Hey! Happy birthday, boss! Me and Jimmy got you something real special. Let's go get it, Jimmy."

A few moments later, a door opened. The sudden flood of light was like a knife in her brain. The two men from the alley took her arms and hoisted her up to her feet. 

​​​​​​"Good morning, sugar tits. Hope you feel like singing. You know, like your old man. Only you just have to sing happy birthday."

Stella glared at the man, and without a word spit down on his shoes. Jimmy slapped her hard across the face. 

"Now you be nice. We brought you to see the boss, just like you wanted."

The two men laughed nastily and pulled her out the door. They took her down a short hallway, through a set of double doors, and into a small room with a poker table in the center. Surrounding the table were four other men. It wasn't hard for Stella to determine which was Tyler Durden. He was younger than she had imagined. He looked her up and down quite a few times, a creepy smile on his face as he slowly stood from his seat.

"Well, boys. I see you brought some entertainer for the evening."

Durden walked around her twice, licking his lips. He stopped directly in front of her, taking her chin in his hand. 

"Miss Stella DiVasio. Daughter of a rat. You know  I thought having Jimmy and Pat shoot you dead in the street would be satisfaction enough; but seeing you here, I think I like the idea of taking care of you myself."

Stella didn't say anything for a moment, then spoke with a hard but shaky voice. 

​​​​​​"I'm...not...him." 

"Oh, I'm aware, little Stella. Although, you look so much like him."

Tyler ran his hand down from her chin, over her collar bone and then to the front of her camisole, taking a firm handful. 

"Fellas, why don't you all take the party outside for a while. I'd like to...unwrap...my present."

Gavin knew from experience how hard it was to carry someone's unconscious body around without attracting attention. It didn't take long before he found a store where one of the employees remembered a man carrying an unconscious woman who'd "fainted". He knew which direction they'd driven off in, but there was where the trail went cold. 

Cursing, Gavin headed to a payphone. It was time to call his information breaker. The bastard charged an arm and a leg, sometimes literally, but he was out of options. 

***

Exactly thirty four seconds after beginning a friendly conversation with the information broker known as Worm, Gavin had grabbed the other man by the tie and slammed his chin into the table.

"Tell me."

"I can't- it's fucking suicide!"

"I'll live."

"Not talking about you, asshole! If I give anything to you about Durden he'll kill my whole family!"

"You don't have a family, Worm."

"Well I sure as shit want to live to have one!"

Gavin slammed the man's face down into the table, twisting his arm painfully behind him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"Worm. You've worked with me before. Helping me find people. People that wound up dead immediately after I find them. I won't tell Durden where I got the information. You've got two options. Don't say anything, and I kill you right now. Or start talking, and at least you have a chance."

It was silent for a few moments, other than the occasional grunt of pain from Worm- after a while, he nodded. Gavin relaxed his grip. Worm stood up, rubbing his shoulder. 

"Durden hosts a poker game every Saturday night. Big money. If you can get me three hundred thousand, I'll get your registered for it. Part of that is my fee, since I'll have to leave town after and you'll be paying for my retirement plan. The game's normally just for his guys, but when a high roller comes in from out of town they sometimes make room. I can arrange for someone to vouch for you."

Gavin crossed his arms. Durden wanted him dead after the business with Jack Mezzo, but he didn't think he knew what Gavin looked like. 

"Fine, get me in the game. Whatever it costs."

***

Gavin walked down the hallway as casually as he could. His gun was in his holster; his knife was in his boot. He assumed they'd take any weapons from him before he met Durden, but they hadn't yet. When he reached the double doors, he saw five or six men hanging around outside of them in hall, smoking and laughing. Gavin grinned at them as he approached them.

"I hear this is the best poker game in town. What are we waitin' for? Somethin' else going on in there?"

The men just laughed.

"You must be the guy Tyler brought in. Heard you could clean us all out before we could say a Hail Mary."

Pat tossed the newcomer a cigar.

"It's the boss' birthday. He's in there with the gift we got him."

Jimmy elbowed the guy beside him. 

"Did you get a load of that sweet ass? Damn shame he's gonna plug her. I would have liked a shot at that, huh?" 

All the men laughed again, continuing to smoke.

----

Tyler held Stella against the wall, his arm pressed heavily across her neck. 

"You really thought you could just come in here and reason with me? There ain't anything you can say that changes the fact that your old man was a rat. That makes you half rat, and that's just too much rat."

The back of his hand landed hard across her cheek, drawing blood. Stella cried out. 

​​​​​​"I swear, I'm just a business woman. I don't even know you. Please..."

Durden smirked and opened a wooden case on a small table. From it, he took a syringe, a spoon, and a small glass vial with a white powder in it. 

"Oh, you're gonna know me...real good."

Stella struggled, trying to free herself, but it was no good. Durden grabbed her a hard, jabbing the needle into a vein. Stella screamed. 

"Just relax, lass. You're not going to feel anything, soon."

He tossed the needle aside and started unbuttoning his shirt. 

Gavin's fingers twitched slightly when he heard the scream. His plan had been to get inside, see what was going on. Maybe even try to lure Durden into a high stakes wager to win "the girl". 

Well, Gavin wasn't really a patient man in the best of times. He smiled, but his eyes were empty.

"Anyone like a cigar?"

A couple of the men smiled as he reached toward his interior jacket pocket. His hand gripped his Colt M1911, and it was out in a flash.

These guys weren't slouches. In fact, Gavin was pretty sure that if they knew he was coming, he couldn't take all of them. But the element of surprise- and the chaos of close quarters- worked in his favor. He pulled the gun and began firing in one smooth motion, moving left to right and hitting the people standing closest to him. There were five of them- the closest ones he hit in the head, the others got two in the chest. He was empty and in the process of reloading when he felt three explosions hit his back that knocked him down to one knee. Finishing his reload, Gavin spun and shot the last guy three times.

Falling down on his chest, Gavin gasped for breath; the weight on his back became unbearable, and he forced himself back to his knees. Shrugging off his jacket, Gavin shrugged off the rudimentary steel plate body armor that covered his chest and back. 

Taking several deep breaths, keeping his gun on the door seeing if Durden would emerge. Forcing himself to his feet, Gavin pushed his way through the door. 

He saw Stella for a couple seconds, looking strangely numb in a state of undress, when the chair hit his back. He spun, aiming his pistol, but his wild shot didn't connect before the chair knocked the gun out of his hand. 

Before the gun landed, Gavin had launched himself at Durden and driven him back into the wall. After exchanging a few furious blows, Durden managed to push him away, knocking Gavin onto his back. As Durden scrambled on the floor toward the gun, Gavin went for the knife in his boot.

Durden reached out for the gun as the hunting knife slammed into the back of his right leg. Gavin used the knife to pull himself forward, slicing through muscle and tendons as he did. Durden was no longer reaching for the gun; his whole world now was the knife.

Gavin withdrew the knife as he rolled forward and grabbed the gun; kneeling he pointed both at his opponent.

Durden panted, both hands trying to quench the wound on the back of his leg. He smiled up at Gavin through bloody teeth.

"And who the fuck are you, crashing my place? Here for her... I'll tell you what. You kill me, you get nothing- maybe what you can carry out of here with you. But the poker money's in a vault; I'm the only one who knows the combination. Probably around twenty million in there, really. All you need to do is walk away, leave her, and-"

No one ever found out what the last part was, as Gavin shot Durden four time in the chest, sending him sprawling backgrounds on the floor. Moving forward, Gavin slit the man's throat. Can never be too sure. As blood pooled on the floor, Gavin reloaded his gun. Then he turned to Stella, who was staring at him with empty eyes.

Was she really that horrified by the violence?

Then he saw the needle on the ground and understood. 

Without a word, Gavin released Stella from the chair and draped a long jacet from the coat rack around her. With his left arm around her shoulders and his right arm free and holding his pistol, Gavin slowly led Stella past the bodies near the door. 

Nothing made sense. Noises were wavy, colors blurred together like a strange soup that made her sick to her stomach. Every sound echoed loudly, then trailed off into a distance she couldn't see. There were loud pops that scared her, but she couldn't scream. She wanted to run, but she felt like she was trying to fight her way through hot  quicksand. All she could do was panic, but her body couldn't seem to respond. 

Everything got quiet suddenly. Stella felt a warmth around her, and someone guiding her. It was a nice feeling amongst the horror in her mind. But wasn't she in danger? Hadn't she gotten herself into some kind of trouble? Was she dying? Is that why nothing seemed right? She felt herself start to cry. 

"I'm sorry...please...tell him I'm sorry...."

​​​

Gavin didn't say anything, partly because he could still feel the anger boiling in his veins and partly because he had no idea what the fuck to say. Besides, in the state she was in, it wouldn't seem to make much sense. 

His initial inclination was to try to get out of the city. Durden had a huge crew; most of them were shit gangsters, but some might want revenge. But Stella was in no condition to travel. He thought about the hotels he'd stayed at when visiting New York before. When he was on his own, he tended towards dumps that wouldn't attract attention. But the higher end hotels could also be discreet... cleaner... 

Leaving Stella for thirty seconds, he returned to the poker table and grabbed a couple stacks of bills.

Returning quickly, Gavin did the best he could to button the long coat he'd put on Stella. She still looked strange, but... well, it was New York. There was a lot of strangeness on the streets. He paid the cab driver a couple hundred bucks extra to make sure there were no issues.

He got a couple strange looks when checking into the high end hotel on the East Side, but the five hundred bucks he slipped the front desk worker was probably more than he earned in months. Gavin leaned forward, promising the same amount when he checked out if there was no trouble. 

Soon, he was in one of the most expensive hotel rooms in New York. He'd never stayed in a place like this before, but it felt safer than being in a shithole of a place. More security. 

The bed was huge and soft, the carpets were deep enough to sink into, and the gold colored molding increased the opulence of the already expensive setting. There was a bedroom, a sitting room, and an expansive bathroom with a giant bathtub. 

Gavin glanced at the bathroom for a few moments. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Stella; a bath was out of the question. Still, he grabbed a hand towel, a bottle from the medicine cabinet- another perk of an expensive place- and drenched it with cold water, walking back to apply it to the injuries on Stella's mouth, back of her head, and the bleeding vein in her arm. With her physical wounds handle as much as possible, Gavin slowly removed the coat that he'd taken from one of Durden's men, tossing it in the trash can. He helped Stella into one of the large, white, soft robes hanging behind the bathroom door.

Fully covered up, Stella still seemed out of it. Gavin helped her climb into bed. He wasn't sure how much had been pumped into her system, but she seemed okay. A quick check of her pulse, her heartbeat seemed to show no immediate danger. He tucked Stella into the middle of the bed, helping her feel as comfortable and as safe as possible, before walking to the phone. He dialed the only number he knew.

"Tara, I need you to come to New York."

It was a short conversation. When it was done, he locked the door and pulled a dresser in front of it, just to be safe. He pulled a chair to the side of the bed and kept a vigil over Stella. While he waited, he cleaned his gun. Then he simply sat. 

At some point, Stella made the transition from a drugged unconsciousness to a restless sleep. Her dreams were short, and made no sense; just vignettes of strange scenes. Until she saw Durden's face again, that twisted smile and wandering hand. The image startled her awake, her eyes popping open with a small gasp. For a few seconds, she tensed, thinking Durden was there; then she started to come into reality. She was laid out on soft bed with a plush pillow. The room around her was brightly lit by the sun light coming in through long sheer curtains. Where was she? 

The last thing she could remember was a dark room with a poker table, voices, and yelling behind the distinct pop of gunshots. But this couldn't be the same place.

With a pang of soreness from the back of her head, she 

turned her head to one side, seeing more of what looked like a rather opulent hotel suite. Turning her head to the other side, she saw someone perched in a chair beside the bed, scanning the sports section of a newspaper. She couldn't immediately see the face, but she recognized the scarred knuckles of the hands.

"Gavin?" 

She moved to sit up, but there was just enough dizziness left to make that harder than it should have been. 

​​​

​​​​​​

Gavin closed the newspaper, having read nothing at all in the past few hours. He looked at Stella carefully, trying to evaluate her. 

"It's me. Don't move too much. You were injected with heroin, punched in the mouth, and hit in the back of your head. Just stay down. Do you want a glass of water?"

He had more pressing questions, but it wasn't time to push her. 

Her mouth, in fact, felt like she'd tried to swallow a handful of cotton balls. She nodded, still distracted with her scrambled thoughts. She remembered none of what Gavin just said, but he knew. That must mean...

"You found me. How in the world did you find me?" 

Gavin looked at her steadily, but kindly, as he returned and handed her a glass of water. Now wasn't the time for long explanations.

"I'm a hunter. It's what I do. Does anything else hurt? Do you have any... injuries I didn't see? Anything else you need? Might want to call your people back in Vegas; they were worried about you."

"How long was I asleep?" 

She asked quietly, taking the glass of water in her hands. She began to lift it to her lips, but paused. Her eyes looked down as she sighed. 

"Gavin... I'm sorry. I just.. I got scared that Durden would start trying to go after people I care about trying to get to me. I thought if I made it easier to find me, he'd stay away from the people I lo- you know, care about."

She finally took a drink, using the quiet moment to self-evaluate for any other pains; but that wasn't the first concern on her mind.

"Are you alright?" 

"You've been out for hours. And you don't need to apologize to me. You know how close you came to getting killed, but you didn't. Nothing to say about it now."

He laced his hands as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

"I'm fine."

There was a knock at the door. Gavin's gun was in his hand in an instant, and he tried to reassure Stella non-verbally. Still, his voice was cold as he approached the door.

"Who is it?"

The voice on the other side was muffled, but unmistakably Tara. 

"It's me. Stop pointing your gun at the door."

Gavin holstered his gun, slid the dresser aside, and opened the door to let Tara in. She entered briskly as Gavin rebuilt the barricade and took the seat her brother had just vacated. Gavin walked over to Stella and reached out, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder as he spoke.

"I need to go follow up on some business. Tara will stay here with you. Do you need anything else?"